One Pissed Call

I was all alone tonight. Just the cats keeping company on this summer day. One of the last hot days of the year. I worked out in the morning, had a full-on protein brunch, and went to work. I had one meeting today. I was feeling all depressed for not having a full schedule. But it was the same every summer. It didn't matter; I could never get used to not being productive. It made me feel sad, desperate, and in pain. Not real pain, but I could agonise, especially during the hot days of summer.

I had plans for today. I wanted to go and buy dish detergent. I had a pile of dishes from last night. And I didn't want to show anyone my inability to handle my own household. Appearance was all I was, not in the superfluous way, but in the sense of the word. I had to look good even if it wasn't true. Looks are deceitful, and that has nothing to do with other sins. I had to keep my Christian upbringing as a moral compass, not to stray away from the light. I just wanted to be in the spotlight.

And when choosing the right song to fall asleep, I was having trouble connecting to my main channel of creativity. 

I had so many plans for after my scheduled meeting, but then human nature hit. I wanted to pee. And I didn't want to be in the situation where I had to strain my organs just because I had to go buy dishwashing soap.

So I hopped on the tram and went home. I had to pee really badly; I didn't even think of pissing on a bush in a green area on the way home. How could I, when it's such a nice day, full of sunshine, and before the start of the new school year, everyone is outside.

On the ride home, my best friend texted me on WhatsApp. He wanted to talk to me, and I reassured him I would video call him when I got home. The urine result of breakfast and of that beautiful sunny day kept reminding me that I had to release it any minute now. I had once let the feeling loose during a traffic jam while my mother was at the wheel, and it was nothing I wanted to repeat. And certainly not in front of strangers, going home after a busy day in the office.

I got home. My friend was already calling me on the video app. I answered and we talked. He had to tell me everything new in his tormented life. I listened. I nodded and I said: " I know". As I continued walking home for the tram stop, I couldn't care less if people would hear his problems. It's not as if they would have to understand every single word he was muttering. His problems were mine to hear and no one else.

I walked and walked. And finally, I turned right and I was on my street. I walked as fast as I could. And I was trained to walk fast. I had been walking to get in shape since February, and brisk walking was child's play for me.

When I finally got to my address, I took my keys out and proceeded to open the door. C~limbed two flights of stairs and faced my apartment door. I drew the key out and stuck it in the keyhole. I jerked it and opened the door. My friend was telling all about butter biscuits from an American chain store that had the best products. I thought of RFK and told him American food is poison. He nodded and said he knew but was lonely. I agreed and empathised with him.

Once I was in my flat, I closed the door behind me and turned the second lock. I always did, in a false sense of security type of way. If anyone is going to break in, they will break in, and another shitty lock on the door will not prevent them from doing it. But I liked the idea of feeling safe by turning a lock once i was inside. 

I rushed to the toilet. Opened the door, greeted my cats, and put my phone on the windowsill.

I rushed to undo the knot on my summer shorts and proceeded to lower them down so that I could take my cock out and pee.  

Lifted the toilet lid and, with a satisfied sigh, shot a stream of yellow urine aimed at the bottom of the bowl. I must have been there for a few seconds. But it felt like eternity. In retrospect, maybe a couple of millimeters of whizz. I felt relieved, and I was ready to continue the video call with my best friend.

I put my dick inside and flushed the toilet. Grabbed my phone and saw a. black screen. I tried to figure it out, but it seemed he had hung up. I called him and waited for a minute to no avail.

I had lost the connection to my friend. I felt terrible. I blamed my urge to piss for this unfortunate act of destiny. Was it too long? Was he disgusted by the sound of my piss leaving my body? I was confused. i thought we were friends, and these things didn't really matter.

I walked out of the toilet feeling sad. I petted my cats and headed to the bedroom. "Maybe it was the time zones," I said, "Maybe he fell asleep." I crawled into bed and fell hard asleep.

The next morning, I was woken up by one of my cats. The usual routine. She would jump on me, demanding fresh water and food. I rolled over and checked the time on my phone. It was 5:00am. The typical time for my cats to wake me up. I saw a message from my friend and it read: "I am going to make some fish and rice, talk to you later."

Hrms Etc

29.8.205

Midnight Mishap

I woke up. Eyes blurry, mouth dry, feet cold, and an extreme urge to piss. My feet were colder than usual. My eyes were blurrier than normal. There was something off about this all. Maybe I was dreaming. "Yes, it must be one of those weird dreams I often have", I thought.

Placebo's Autoluminescent played in the back of my head.

"I am blinding

I am white heat

I am heaven-sent

I was a nightmare

But I'm not gonna go there

Again"

And for a verse, for a quick instant, I tricked myself into believing I was asleep. Sweet little lies we tell the kids so they fall asleep. To our friends, so they don't ache. To our dying mothers, that tomorrow everything will be alright. Oh, sweet little white lies. If only they were true. If only everything would be fine tomorrow. If only the heartache would die with a beer and tequila. If only the monsters under our beds would let us dream away the shadows of the night.

Brian Molko continued whispering:

"Into the black hole

The house of no contest

Make mine a meteor

Rise me above the rest

I'm soaring through outer space

There is no better place

To be"

I rubbed my eyes with my semi-numb hands to see if they could focus. If I was in dreamland, I wanted to see where I was. Would I see my mom this time? Perhaps, my cat Pelucha would be sitting by my feet looking up. I rubbed my eyes again. Nothing. It was all darkness. Just pitch back. Where the fuck was I this time?

I stopped rubbing my eyes as this was obviously not working. My feet were freezing now. The empty coldness was not only eating out my feet but, was extending to all the other parts of my body, my legs, hands, nose, and heart. This wasn't your normal dream or nightmare. This was something else. This was perhaps, reality?

I moved my hands around trying to feel my way around this place I was in. I soon touched a wall. Or was it a door? "Where am I? Fuck, Am I awake?" I went to bed. I was in bed. I was out with friends. I drank, they left, I had two more pints of beer and, called an Uber. I got home and went straight to bed. I must be dreaming. I should be in bed. 

I soon found a light switch on the wall in front of me. I pushed it and the light hurt more than any hangover has ever hurt. I was outside my apartment. In the middle of the night. Wearing just a T-shirt. No underwear, because I read many years ago that it is not healthy for men to sleep with boxers or trunks as they do not let the balls rest after spending all day locked up in a fabric prison. So since I can remember, I have always slept just with a T-shirt and no trunks. Fuck, and I needed to take a piss!

What was I doing outside my apartment in the middle of the night? No keys, no phone. no one to ask for help! And a full bladder did not help. I had to do something to empty it so that I could continue to think of a solution to my very unfortunate situation.

I decided to go out of the building and baptize the flowerbed of the Slovak neighbor who took over all of the tenants' garden lots. He was a 30-something Slovak guy who lived on the first floor and was on paternity leave. His wife sported the same haircut as he. I often mistook the wife for the guy until I realized the one holding the baby was the husband. I never crossed more than a good morning or a good evening with either of them. 

I opened the door to the street and immediately realized that if I went out I would be half naked and locked out of the building in the middle of the night. I looked for something to keep the door from closing. I didn't need to make things worse just cuz I had to piss. I was already in one hell of a situation. I didn't need to make things even more surreal. What was I going to tell everyone in the morning? I didn't even know what time it was. I guess I wanted to urinate and I woke up and walked to the toilet, and by mistake opened the wrong door, which is strategically located opposite the entrance door. who designed this fucking apartment. I had a big complaint.

I found a cardboard box my neighbors use for the junk mail. "This might work out", I thought. I grabbed the box and placed it so that the door wouldn't close behind me. I did all this from the inside of the building. Once I saw It would hold the door open, I slowly pulled the door open and slid through the opening not applying any force to the door to cause it to slam it shut behind me while taking a leak.

Once outside, I didn't need to take my cock out of my pants as I was not wearing any. It was a freeing experience given the situation. I had never had the opportunity of pissing on someone's flowerbed out in the open, even if it was deep into the night. God knows what time it was. And I wasn't ready to ask either. All I could think about was if anyone had spiked up my drink, or if I had become a sleepwalker.

Before I was finished, I saw people coming my way. Probably going home to their bed after a night out in the pub with their friends. Shit!, I need to finish now, otherwise, they will see me half-ass naked pissing on this Slovak guy's flowerbed, this is something I do not want people to know about, at least not firsthand. it's always better when you tell people a story and add certain humor to it so that it becomes less disgusting or real. 

Placebo kept on playing somewhere and it was not in my head and I could relate to their lyrics:

"Into the darkness

I gave away myself

Slipped on the spiral stairs

Tumbling down the well

I fell on a soft spot

I'm white heat, I'm white hot

Again

Again..."

I ran inside without even shaking it. I didn't want the situation I was in to worsen. I wanted this nightmare to end and to wake up in my bed. With my cats. To make things even more grim my better half was in the mountains skiing, hundreds of kilometers away from me. And my cats never mastered the skill of door opening on command. Wasted time owning cats and never teaching them useful tricks.

To make the story short, I ran back inside and decided to knock at my neighbor's door. Hoping they would open. And they did. After a short introduction to the problem, my neighbor invited me into his flat. gave me a fresh pair of boxers, water, and a chair to sit on. He began calling locksmiths to see who would pick up the tab. After an hour of trying and getting to know each other, one guy replied and said he would arrive in 30 minutes. 

We talked about our childhoods, and how it was for me coming to his country. I had never had such a long conversation in Czech with anyone as I did with him. His wife was in their bedroom with their infant boy trying to sleep while I spoke Czech and sipped on water and hoped a locksmith would answer and come and help me get home. I was sitting 4 meters away from my own home. It was terrible I couldn't just go home and sleep this off.

We continued talking about our lives and why I had ended up in his country. If I had suffered any type of discrimination, and If I like their food. Our jobs, hobbies, and musical preferences. The locksmith arrived. He took out a strange device and opened my apartment's door in less than 3 seconds.

I walked in, walked towards my bedroom, picked up my phone, and headed to the door to pay the guy for his service. I thanked my new friend and neighbor for the help and closed the door behind me. This time I made sure I closed the door standing on the right side of it. Praying to the Lord above to never happen to me ever again. At least, I had peed and could go back to bed to live until the next morning and hope nobody other than those living across from me would ever know.

Hrms Etc

11.6.24

Pee Gasm

At this point in my life, I had caught on with all that was in. So, I would regularly watch videos online. 

How to cook Chicken Masala, how to improve the productivity of my employees, and how to grow organic tomatoes using UV lights. Sometimes, I would watch more serious stuff like philosophical debates about masculinity and cleaning one's room. 

Some other times I would watch videos mocking the Woke agenda, and how stupid we all were for jumping on the bandwagon of Cancel Culture. I would occasionally engage with pseudo-SJWs on Twitter. 

These motherfuckers were really annoying. I mean, next to the Woke mob, they were almost alike, if not the same type of scum, but they would use dirty tactics more than the wokes. They would find my other social media accounts and go and discharge large amounts of hate under the pictures of my cats on Instagram. They were spineless fucktards. But, I somehow enjoyed the dopamine shots when my friends came to my rescue and liked my replies, and of course, dislike the vitriolic comments left by these extreme feminist incels who often identified as They/Them/We/Us/TeamUSA.

And of course, I would also watch videos on how to increase the pleasures in life.

So while checking videos about those little pleasures in life, I ran into the "Pee Gasm", intended for women only. "Women only?", I thought. “When you have downward pressure from the bladder on the shaft of the clitoris and there’s a sudden release of this pressure, it can cause those nerves to fire off,” The YouTuber said. “These nerves firing off is what gives women that tingly orgasmic feeling.”

This is so goddamn sexist! I had to find a way to see if this would apply to men too and spread the word. Pissing was not a female-only thing.

So, the next time I had to pee, I was ready for it. I knew the steps of the scientific method by heart. I was ready for this to be a grandiose thing.

Once the bladder is full the experiment is ready to begin. To urinate, your brain signals the sphincters to relax. Then it signals the muscular bladder wall to tighten, squeezing urine through the urethra and out of your bladder.

I had swallowed lots of water, tea, and coffee. I wanted my bladder to fill as fast as possible so that I could begin testing my new hypothesis. This was huge! If I could discover that the Pee Gasm in guys was possible, I would never have to wait to go home to have an orgasm. I could have an orgasm every time I pissed. In the office, at the bar, at the airport, even in church! Fuck fighting with straight people defending the Trans community, just because they thought watching Rupaul's Drag Race and finding it amusing meant they were allies and were entitled to bully people online.

This was fucking great! I could even start my career as a YouTuber and teach other guys how to have Pee Gasms! I was so excited.

The time had finally come. My bladder was full and my brain was telling me I had to go to the toilet and release the golden rain all the liquids I had ingested had turned into. I was more than thrilled to piss. Like never ever before.

I wanted to enjoy every single moment of the experiment. So I sauntered out of my office and into the toilet. I bet I had that confident smirk drawn on my face as I moved towards the toilet. I opened the door and stepped into the little toilet cubicle that was the farthest from the one designed to host people from my office, I wanted total privacy. What if it was really pleasurable and I moaned and screamed? That was something that I wanted to keep to myself, at least for now. Later, I would make a video and put it out on the internet for everyone to try. But for now, it was mine to test drive.

I locked the door behind me. I unzipped my pants. I took my dick out and pointed it directly at the deep end of the toilet bowl. You have to be a man to know what I am talking about. I aimed and waited. I waited until the very last moment. I imagined my favorite song was playing. And I was at the club. The music was loud and the people were enjoying their Friday night. I began vibing as if I could really listen to that song.

I thought how much I liked that feeling of being tipsy and heading to the toilet of the bar, or the disco. And sharing the time and space with other people feeling exactly the same. What a wonderful thing to share in silence. When you don't have to express your feelings but secretly everyone around you is experiencing the same exact thing.

Before I noticed, I was done with my first attempt to feel a Pee Gasm. I loved the fact that I was able to travel away from the working environment and into the wilderness of a nightclub toilet. And feel the music and see the silence and enjoy the slow-motion from the strobe lights.

My experiment was a success. And I soon forgot about my YouTube dreams and my Twitter wars. All I wanted was to piss. Not only was the physical feeling great, but also I found that the seconds I spend getting rid of the urine, gave me enough time to think about things I had never considered.

I had been sold to the infection. No need for anyone's sympathy. So beautiful and free. 

I had finally found the Life Drive. And I was close to discovering the Death Drive.

Hrms Etc

1.4.2022

Midnight Pissing

 It was yet again another sleepless night. And all I wanted was to drown the time in booze. It was better than just counting the minutes away. Anything was better than just letting time slip by. And that included drinking.

I never considered myself an alcoholic. Or addicted to the nectar of the gods. Even though I constantly thought of having a drink. But instead, had chosen cigarettes over anything else. From the point of view of convenience, cigarettes reigned divine. You could easily find a nice shaded spot and light one cancer stick and get rid of all the stress and anxiety for 32 more minutes. Convenient and quick. It only took about 5 minutes of my busy day. And I was ready for more of what life had in store for me.

I was never a neurotic person, at least not in public. I had gained experience on certain techniques to deal with that part of my personality when I was around others. Yes, I had become excellent at hiding that personality trait from others. I mean, from time to time, it was quite obvious that the situation called for me to act nervously, somewhat of a fusspot. And that was ok too. I didn't mind it at all. After all, I had realized that people will judge you anyway.

I moved away from my bed and headed to the kitchen. Put a jacket on and opened the door to the balcony and shut the door behind me. I lit a smoke and reached for a nice chilled bottle of beer that I had placed there to get them naturally cold. It was a common practice in the cold days of winter and autumn where I lived. That and potato salad. But I guess you could do without a fridge during these times too. So basically, I just used my balcony when I wanted to smoke, cool beer down, and grow tomatoes in the spring and summer.

It was a Saturday, well into midnight. I opened the beer with help of my lighter. The bottle cap flew out of the window and fell on the neighbor's garden downstairs. "Shit", I thought, this is the last thing I need, another notice posted everywhere on the building scolding an unknown culprit of littering the poor neighbor's garden with cigarette butts, bottle caps, and other shit. But, oh well, I didn't really mean for the cap to pop off in the wrong direction now, did I?

I began puffing my Blue Camel's delight and took sips of beer. I puffed again and again. I was a bag of nerves. I didn't know why or what was going on. So I gulped down on my pilsner and lit another smoke. I was clearly having a nervous breakdown. Was it because the sleep deprivation was kicking in? Was it the fact that I had to stay in isolation for the next 5 days? Was it the fact that I didn't have any friends and my act had caught on me?

I felt an incredible urge to piss. Was it the beer? Was it the cold? Was it the fact that in a normal night, my bladder would wake me up at around this time to release all the liquids I had ingested before attempting in vain to fall asleep?

I gently put out my cigarette. I didn't want to damage it in case I wanted to light it up again later. I put the empty beer bottle on the floor and moved into the kitchen. I closed the door behind me and walk towards the toilet. I didn't have to unzip my pants. I loved the freedom that only my pajamas could provide. I took my dick out and began pissing. 

Pissing is one of the greatest feelings we have the pleasure to experience in this life. And, I realized then that all the anxiety and stress I had experienced earlier, all went away. 

"I am cured", I thought while shaking my penis to get rid of the excess urine. I felt a tremendous relief. And with that a strong need to go back to bed and finally sleep.

Hrms Etc

5.2.2022

Monsters

 I was somewhat cynical. And rejoiced in the fact that I never went with the flow. No matter what others would say, I would always question them. Sometimes to their discomfort. Until they found a way to neutralize my ways. They began calling me a conspiracy theorist. Title that I enjoyed. Until the day that they began dismissing me based on the title I thought I had proudly earned. 

They were smart. And I underestimated them. I never thought that they would outsmart me and enjoy it They had become me, in a twisted way.

No matter what the current event was our topic of discussion, they would find a way to castigate me. I had fallen down the rabbit hole and I couldn't get out of there, at least not without my integrity damaged and sore.

Even the most trivial talk would end up with me being scarified as the holy lamb. My opinions didn't matter anymore. They would dismiss me almost instantly. And they enjoyed it. I didn't know what to do. What to say or do. It didn't matter. I was their sacrificial lamb, their favorite scapegoat and they had come to like it. 

Until that day. When I had had enough. We were at our local pub. And the news dictated our conversation. A young politician was now being blamed for taking advantage of his young female followers. They saw his profile on Tinder and they were shocked when he asked them for nudes. Then years later, they anonymously called him out on twitter. 

"Spineless scumbag bitches" , I said

"Well, from his position of power, he shouldn't have done that", one murmured.

"Fuck that shit", I said, "and you are supposed to exchange book reviews over that sex app?", I fired.

"He is a powerful dude, he used his position to lure the gals", my friend said, "they froze because he is a politician"

I laughed out loud and said: "You're mature enough to go on such an app and then you make false anonymous accusations on twitter because someone asked you for a tit pic?, that's ridiculous.

My smartass friends were waiting for me to be fired up to shoot me. They had gained some skill. They would bring something juicy up. Then they would let me dissect the issue and then they would try their best to discredit me by calling me a fanatic, a liar and a cheat.

The beer had been abundant and my bladder was more than full.

I had had enough of my friends attacks and attempts to shut me up. So I stood up and without any announcement, i headed to the toilet.

The way to the urinals was darker than normal. But I knew the way.

I had walked the same way for many nights before. I knew the way like the back of my hand. 

I rushed, as the piss wanted out and I wasn't going to give my friends the pleasure of me pissing my pants.

My friends, yeah right, what a bunch of assholes. I loved them.

I pushed the door open and walked into the toilet. The place was empty and you could hear the running water of each other the three urinals on the right. 

Nobody was there. My favorite setting as I had a shy bladder. Ran to the urinal on the far left and unzipped my pants. Took my dick out and began pissing the many beers I had drank earlier. It was orgasmic, and anyone who has ever pissed can tell you how good it feels to piss after a lot of drinks. 

Out of nowhere, this super tall hairy guy appeared next to me and in a condescending way look down on me.

He said: "Your friends are real pricks", and with a diabolical smile released a river of pee. 

"Yes", I replied. 

"Wouldn't you like them to stop bullying you?"

"Well, of course, but that's the way they have grown to be", I said.

"Would you like them to stop right now?", the tall hairy figure asked me.

"Well, yeah" I replied, "what's your name, I like you. You're kinda cool", I said

"I am Mephisto", he replied.

That was the last time I saw my friends.

Hrms Coldwell

12.6.2021

The Sounds Of Pissing III

It had been months since I could have a good night sleep. I used to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the soft goose feathered pillow. But something changed that night. I would stare blank at the white ceilings. With heavy eyes and sore thoughts the nights would roll out.

All I wanted was to fucking fall asleep. I didn't care if I had nightmares or if I just slumber for a while.

I had tried it all. I ran as fast as I could to get my body as tired as possible. I had tried masturbating. I had smoked joints. Nothing seemed to keep me from being awake. I was slowly rotting inside. I could feel death calmly creeping underneath my bed as I laid still.

Was it the secrets? Was it the rain outside? Was it the full on booze nights I spent trying to black out?

I kept drowning in a sea of empty thoughts and eternal seconds. I was so empty.

Time passed and the bodily urge of pissing reminded me that I was awake. 

Like a glitch in my system I hypnic jerked out of bed.

I rushed to the toilet. My dull self crawled in a lackadaisical fashion.

Once in the white room, I lowered my pajamas pants, and took my member out.

I leaned against the wall trying to make the whole situation bearable. Silence was golden. Suddenly I began pissing. And the pleasure reminded me that being awake was a blessing nobody really cherished. At least not me until that very moment. 

I was more conscious than most people I knew. And I was able to enjoy, in the precarious of my situation, a mundane act.

"And I hope I can live another day", I thought.

Hermes Coldwell

11.12.2018  

A Pissing Nightmare

It was December 31st. Everyone was ready to party and ready to leave the year 2017 behind. It had been a year that took so much away from us. Not only had a bunch of people committed suicide, but the year's political and social events had taken a toll on everyone, including me.

I was already sipping on my second vodka with peach juice. There was something about this juice that reminded me of home, my long time forsaken home. The sugar and added chemicals of this particular brand of beverage always reminded me of my years in high school. I guess I was happy to have found this particular drink, to mix with the Russian vodka leftovers from one of the summer parties we had had.

Everyone was grouped already, and several things were being discussed. Politics, music, and generally shit. I was trying to find the right moment for me to laugh, giggle, of sigh. it was like I was looking for a cue of sort of to interact in a natural way, just to make it till midnight, or until everyone was drunk and possibly high to stop pretending to be the way they all wanted or expected me to be.

I remember looking at my phone, just to see the time. To see if my predictions on when would the people around me would become tipsy or even drunk. Just to see how much longer I would have to be there.

My glass was suddenly empty. I moved like a shadow into the kitchen and refilled my tall glass with the potato distillate of the land of the Czars and the saccharine solution we all called juice back home. I didn't even need ice cubes. My drink was perfectly chilled and ready to be gulped down. It didn't really matter. I would pissed it eventually. And I would power walk the carbohydrates left in my system not to gain more weight. Yes, I had began walking a couple of months ago, and I had began seeing the results. At least, I would sleep better, without acid reflux. A good night sleep was what I had secretly longed for already many years.

I went back to my assumed position in the party. My group was still talking about things I didn't understand, or secretly didn't want to.

"So, we heard you didn't have any friends", someone fired away

"Uh, I do have friends", I said

"Good", a girl standing to my right said

"I have friends, they just don't live here" I continued, "they are scattered all over the world, one lives in Germany, another one lives in Rio and there is one in Mexico, so I do have friends, they are my best friends, we just don't see each other as often as we would like"

"Why don't you have friends here?". A guy mumbled across from where I was standing

"It is difficult to connect with people with whom I don't share anything in common with", I said

"That sounds a bit weird, don't you think?", another girl asked me

"It does, I guess, but when you have decided to live things ahead of what you are supposed to, it makes perfect sense. You lose proximity with the rest of the people, but gain a stronger bond with those, who like me, have chosen their own path in life, rather than following what is expected from them, socially".

I was having a conversation with the people in the group of party goers. It wasn't a very productive talk, I gathered. However, I was interacting. But after so many Vodka drinks, my bladder was totally full and I needed to relieve it from such burden.

I sneaked away from the living room and headed towards the toilet.

As I opened the door, I found myself in a huge room, which was barely lit and had lots of gigantic mirrors above the sinks. Around the place where one is supposed to wash after doing their business  —or like me, before actually doing anything, because to be honest, I do not remember all the places where my hands have been— there were the urinals and cabins. 

All the cabins were in a pretty deplorable state. There walls, all sported punch holes, and some of them were falling apart.

I tried to find one with the best cover, as I am a very shy individual and at least when pissing, I like my privacy.

Once I did, I began to unzip my pants. 

But for some reason, lots of guys came into the toilets and began searching for a place where to get rid of all their alcoholic urine. So in question of seconds, before I had even start, a guy was pounding on the door of the cabin I was in, shouting: "hey, come one, I need to piss".

I saw how the other cabins on the right and on the left became occupied and I could see the guys staring at me while they pissed their beer and their liquors. I couldn't even start. I was a shy motherfucker trapped inside a toilet cabin, being watched and being expected to finish pissing real soon.

"What a nightmare", I thought to myself.

Hermes Coldwell

31.12.2017

Holy Shit!

It had been 3 years since my best friend disappeared. The last time I saw him was in Alterna, a bar near my flat which served as meeting point for students from the local university and other entities such as me and my friends.

We went there every weekend, not only because it was cheap, but because their playlist sounded as it had been created by me, or as if they had cloned my iPod and were playing all what we loved night after night.

It had been 3 years since my best friend had vanished. The last time we were together we drank beer and whiskey sours. We smoked camel blues and puffed on weed on occasion. We had been planning a trip out of the big city as we needed to get away from the stress and the monotony of the every day life we had become slaves to.

I am Terrified by IAMX began playing on the sound system. Chris Corner sang:

I am terrified, I think too much

I get emotional when I drink too much

I buy every cry, 'cause I don't trust

I am terrified, I think too much

We continued to plan. 

Our master plan began to take form. It made sense, we had to do it, the stress was killing us. I was a little bit stronger than he ever was, yet, that night, I felt as if we were in sync and we were meant to do this.  

Two more shots of Jack arrived at our table and we swallowed them without mercy.

I have to pee, he said

Yeah, I replied

And Hermes went to the toilet. And I sat there, waiting and staring at my phone waiting for someone to ring, text or something.

I'm so empty

You're all I'm thinking about, about

Oh oh, about, about

Oh oh oh, about, about

Oh oh oh, about, about

I'm so empty sang Shirley Manson, She sang until her voice faded away and her next streaming single hit the sound system.

I sat there and sipped on my beer. I played candy crush and liked some shitty pictures on Instagram. I even endorsed some shitty abilities of people on LinkedIn.

I sat there for some time. A new beer soon appeared on  my table. Shirley Manson has stopped singing long ago. And there I had drunk a lot of beer. So I decided to hit the toilets and release the pressure. 

I stood up and tried my best to walk straight. I didn't want people to know that I was feeling tipsy and that I couldn't handle my alcohol. I made it to the entrance door. Then I continued to the toilets.

I pushed the door open and walked in. I looked around and the place was empty. Nobody was there. All the doors to the toilet were open. I was all alone in there. 

I couldn't hold it any longer so I jumped to the urinals and unzipped my pants.

And as I was doing my business I saw it.

On the wall mosaic. A pink square. Amid the rest of them all. And I remembered Hermes saying that the one pink square had been calling him out.

I finished pissing. I shook my penis. My friend was gone.

Coldwell

8.6.2016

Pissing In The Office

I ran into the toilet. I had drunk the previous night. I was fucking stressed, so I drowned myself in red wine, even though I knew I would wake up horny. I drained the bottle out. I had a few shots of whiskey and some other of jagermeister. All I needed was to forget what had happened at work that day.

My boss was a bitch and I couldn't´t do anything about it but to swallow my pride and drink to forget. She was a selfish cunt and she knew it. We all did.

All I could ever amount to do was to kill her in my fantasies. Of course I would never end another human being´s life, but only in my wildest dreams she would meet her maker.

I was from America, the continent, no the country, so really there was nothing I could do to end her miserable life but to pray that she would grow a heart, and a brain, and a soul. 

I would find out years later that destiny had something in store for her, but back then all I wanted for her was to die a slow and painful death.

I had woken up to the 5:30 a.m. alarm clock and rushed toward the steamy shower to help myself disguise the stench of alcohol coming out of morning meat suit.

After the morning coffee and my morning song, to help me go through the day, I arrived at work. I dreaded to meet my boss face to face. She had always something nasty to say to me like: oh you´re so short, like a midget, or: oh you´re so ugly like my mother.

I always tried to avoid meeting her. But that day I didn´t even have to try. She was not anywhere to be seen. So, I walked straight into my office.

I did everything what I had to do on that day. I emailed my clients. I called them. I smiled and laughed.

She was not there.

She must be ill, I thought. Fucking Bitch, She was sick and she didn´t let us know. She always broke protocol.

It didn´t matter, I was hungover and I had diarrhea, so I had to go to the toilet. God damn the red wine!

As I was sitting there, minding my own business, until I hear them.

Shut the fuck up! A random guy said.

I won´t say anything, my boss cried.

You fucked us so much already, he said.

Agh...her voice was muffled, as if her mouth had been violently covered.

Another manly voice said: You have been so nasty to me. All I wanted was your love, and all I got was your most horrible side.

I nodded. I knew what he was talking about.

He went on to call her several things.

I sat there in the small cubicle. I sat there until all the raucous had ended. And she was gone.

Thank God, I thought. The most negative person I had ever met had left the building and I was happy.

Hermes Coldwell

10.01.2016

Don't Hold The Wall

It was a rainy night. A rainy Friday night. And as usual I met with my friends. Out for beer we went. I have never cared too much for the kind of place I go as long as the company brings something that loneliness cannot just give you. A good company is a good company in heaven and in hell.

It was 8 in the night. I was ready for drinking the night away. I was ready to create new moments and recall old stories. I was ready and so were all of my friends.

We met under the clock, near the tram stop. Quick smoked our cigarettes and teased each other in our own very sarcastic ways. Marketa had a bottle of white wine with her. She offered us to sip on it while we walked towards the stop. I took several hits despite the fact of having a strange dislike for white wine. It was 2009 and some of us talked about the summer hits. The new, the good and the bad.

Music talks were great when Marketa was around. She loved the Killers. In fact she loved a song by The Killers. I liked the band so we often played them on the jukebox. She also liked Oasis. Not just one song, but all of them. Probably the biggest fan of Oasis that I had ever met.

We were about 15 people. A cluster of eagerness and fading youth heading to a new place. As long as they had a jukebox and good beer the night would unroll nicely and easily.

We continued to drink from Marketa's sweet little bottle of wine while we were on the tram. And soon we were there. Magda and Erik rushed towards the door and we followed.

We entered a placed called The Cop Bar. I can assure you that all I was expecting was a place full of barflies and lowlife cops and maybe a couple of toothless hookers, but to my surprise and everyone else's the crowd was somewhat similar to us.

One beer, shouted Marketa.

One for me, said Erik.

I want a glass of wine, said Magda.

The rest of us ordered beer, like the good guys we were. The night had officially begun.

As we drank beer, shots and wine, Marketa would stand up, walk to the jukebox and insert a coin to continue playing her favorite Oasis song. It was about 10 pm and the I had begun feeling the booze in my system. I wanted to pee. So I excused myself and headed to the toilets of The Cop Bar. The toilet was tiny. It consisted of a sink, a urinal and a toilet seat. The urinal was being pissed on by some guy who in order to keep balance had leaned against his arm which was resting on the wall.

I then walked towards the toilet only to hear a warning from the pissing guy next to me.

I hate pissing in the urinal, he said

Hmmm right, I sighed

I said I hate pissing in the urinal, he mumbled again, they make them wrong and when I pee, my shoes get splashed with piss.

That is why you are leaning over the wall?, I asked 

Nah, I am drunk and I pissed all over my pants, he said

Oh, well, you can always tell them you were washing your hands and the water pressure was to much that you got all wet.

That's a good one, I will use it next time, the guy zipped up and left the room.

Poor guy, I thought, he was too drunk that he pissed himself. I have to ask the guys if they have ever pissed themselves. I laughed inside silently. I shook my cock. Concealed it inside my boxers and zipped up. I had to wash my hands, not like that guy before me, what a dirty dude. I stood in front of the sink, I opened the faucet and the water came out stronger than I had thought splashing all over my pants. Yes, now it looked like I had pissed my pants, just like the other dude had. Karma works in mysterious ways, I thought.

Coldwell

30.10.2015

.

I'm Lost Without You

"And the world spins by 

With everybody moaning 

Pissing, bitching and everyone is shitting 

On their friends 

On their love 

On their oaths 

On their honor 

On their graves 

On their mouths 

And their words say nothing"

Shirley Manson sang while I silently observed the rest of the people sitting round me. 

Yes, they knew I was there, yet nobody really cared and I took advantage of my time there to space off. I had had a tough week but nobody cared. They all were immersed into what they thought was better, more interesting, more alive. I continued to mend the holes in my mind after a hectic week in real life.

"I'm not like them

But I can pretend

The sun is gone

But I have a light

The day is done

But I'm having fun

I think I'm dumb

Maybe just happy"

I never really liked Kurt, but on that day I had to fully agree with him and his dull rhymes and lullabies. I had to get out of there and get fucking drunk. I needed to do something. And I needed to do it fast.

The dark night outside called me. I walked across the main square. I walked and dreamed I was happy. I dreamed I was real. I had been drinking a lot. I was fucking drunk. I took my phone out and began recording what I would be later called as the Night Journey.

All I wanted was to get away from this all. I wanted to disappear. And I did. And as I walked towards home, I got a call.

My phone began ringing. I picked up. 

Hey, how's it going. The voice said

It's going well, I just need to pee

Sure, do your thing, the voice replied

Yes, I will pee and I will go home

Sure, whatever you need to do, please do

Well, it doesn't matter, I can pee and do whatever I want

Yes, you can

You cannot tell me what to do, I fired back

Of course not, the voice said

All I want is to pee and go home

Of course

And I don't want to know who you are, I said in a serious way

Well that is already top late

We are home, the voice said.

Hrms Coldwell

9.10.2015

.

Pissing

It was Friday afternoon. The typical end-of-the-week time when people get ready to kill the stress and drown the voids in their soul with cheap tequila and BMW shots. Yes, another Friday afternoon to kill the time away and feel like we have become more than what our fathers said we would.

A day in which who you have grown to become doesn't really matter. As you carefully select the crowd you want to hang out with and the place that will serve as a background to your faceless selfies and to your faceless selves.

Goddamned Fridays, I hated them. I hated my friends. They lied, The were fake. But on Fridays I am ready to just get wasted. So I don't really care who I am with. 

I am the one who puts together the parties. The one who organizes the binge. The one who calls and twits everyone not to miss the drowning.

The drowning, that's what I call our Fridays together. The drowning has been happening since I arrived in this city. Almost 9 years ago. That's quite a lot of drowning and pretend. But it's Friday and no one cares. 

I am the master DJ, the king of the booze and the prince of self mutilation and black humor jokes. Like a Hollywood voice over, I always enjoyed saying what the others were thinking. Until last Friday, when I discovered one of them had been pretending to be my friend just to get close to me.

Just to see if my good life could rub off on her.

It felt like a knife carving its way into my heart. Like a check with insufficient funds. It hurt a lot.

"Hey",out of nowhere she said to me, "wanna go somewhere more private?", she asked.

"Sure", I replied, "I just need to go to the men's room. You piss the shit out of me."

Dick Pound

15.5.2015

Golden Rain!

I followed my friends. My newly sworn friends.

Into the dark we went. They had promised me bitches and lots of alcohol. Sex, drugs and good music.

White candles burnt everywhere. It smelled like a church. I wasn't sure where I was. Not a church I hoped. All I wanted was to get my rocks off and enjoy this Christmas away from home. I wanted to remember my first time away in a different kind of way.

The music rumbled away from us in such a strange way. We were following a party that was going away. Dying Away.

My phone began ringing, Someone was calling me. My ring tone was "La Mantra Mori" by Ghost. The song gave our journey a special feeling and it blended with our pace perfectly, so I did not pick up. 

"We Focus On Your Death

We Focus On Your Death

You Share Not The Blood of Our-our-ours

Thus We Focus On Your Death"

Warm and velvety were the walls that chocked us while we walked. 

The calling on my cellphone died away eventually, And the sense of belonging dissipated too. We drank and smoke. People around seemed happy. They seemed as if they were getting ready for a massive party.

We were too dumb to run. To dead to die. And as they tied me up to a stake, I sighed.

This was never my world, I thought. As they cut my clothes open. This is it, I said to my self.

I am broken and bleeding.

And then my blood dripped down and splashed frenetically on the stone floor. I pissed  myself,

A last, a moment of joy before dying, I Thought.

Dick Pound

26.12.2014

,

If I Could, I Would Hover While He's Making Love To You

I always had a handsome and very well-endowed cock, In Junior High, whenever us boys had our wielding workshop hour, and the ranging hormones would make the teen aged guys show off their cocks, and their masturbation techniques, I was king.

I do not know if it was genetics. I was taller than my father. I had relatively smaller feet than the rest. But my cock was huge and porn-like shaped. They all admired it. But to me, it was a big problem, all puns intended. To fit in the skinny jeans that were in at the time made it impossible for me to sit normally. But I indeed liked the bulge in my crotch. Nicely shaped and apparently, both boys and girls enjoying looking at it.

I had never had any problem with my penis. On the contrary, it had always been an advantage all throughout my life. Until the day I went to visit my best friend in Berlin.

I arrived in Berlin. It was my first time in Europe. I had some friends in the capital of Germany and I was in town for a few days visiting them. 

I felt sexy in Berlin. I thought I fit right in. The streets and buildings were all very different. The people weren't as I had always imagined Germans. They were relaxed and somewhat friendly. The autumn leaves were everywhere on the ground padding my every step towards sex, drugs and rock music.

I lit a blue camel up and puffed while I headed down Eisenbahnstraße.

I entered the Black Bar. The only thing that wasn't black were the golden bird cages decorating the tables. Rammstein echoed in the blackness if this place.

"Der Jüngling steigt den Berg mit Qual

Die Aussicht ist ihm sehr egal

Hat das Röslein nur im Sinn

Bringt es seiner Liebsten hin"

My friends were sitting at the very back of the bar. They drank beer and smoked the same brand of cigarettes like me. No wonder why I had chosen them to be my friends. They had been there in my darkest hours. And they had always liked me and I think they also liked to secretly look at my bulge. I didn't mind.

We drank and caught up with our lives after years of not having seen each other. We drank beer and 

Jägermeister chasers. We drank White Russians and talked about how different our lives had become. You see, after High School, the world changes your. You do things that set you apart from the rest and sometimes you cannot related to the people anymore. But not us. We talked about fucking, drinking and drugs,

We were a successful bunch that distance could not keep apart. 

We talked about going to a sex club after midnight. We talked about a bar that has a needle dispenser for junkies. And we smoked weed.

I asked my friends about the local costumes and about the food. Sausages and Sour Kraut. Beer and Berlin. Too much drinking had led me to have a full bladder ready to leave my body.

So I headed to the men's room. To my surprise, there was only one bathroom. 

A unisex bathroom, that's cool, I thought.

The walls were black, the sink was black and even the toilet was black. But there was no urinal.

So I unzipped my jeans and walked towards the toilet seat only to find a sign. There were no words written, only a stick man pissing standing up crossed out. 

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I thought. So I sat and tried to piss sitting down.

What an ordeal. My cock, being porn-like big did not fit inside the toilet with me sitting down.

I thought of how horrible it would be for me to catch some disease in my cock for having touched the bowl with my dick.

Fuck, I said.

I stood up and pissed standing.

What was a guy with a big cock like me supposed to do while taking a leak in a Berlin toilet? 

Hrms Etc

30.11.2014

My First Night In Toronto

I woke up. Face pressed against the white tiles of a Torontonian restroom. My head hurt like a motherfucker. All I could move where my eyelids and my eyeballs. My breathing was out of sync with my heart beat.

Fuck, I thought, where am I?

"Won't someone listen

Nobody gets in

My body's a temple

But nothing is simple

Silence is golden

I have been broken

Something was stolen

Safe in my own skin"

Silence is Golden by Garbage echoed in my head, I had been in the Government. Everything was coming back.

Vodka and Orange Juice. Yeah I had been drinking that all night, that was for sure. I could smell it on me. It was clear now that I had too much to drink and I was now paying for all my sins.

The sun shone through the windows. It must have been around 10 am. 

I could smell puke. Yes, it was puke. A mix of hot dogs, vodka, orange juice and cigarettes. I focused my sight on the floor. I wanted to see why my faced was being pressed against my own will. Fucking gravity. I hated gravity so much right now.

I had been standing by the bar of the famous club in Toronto when tons of people began chatting me up, Soon, the rounds of Sex on the Beach had become more than plenty. And I had to escape somewhere less crowded. 

I soon felt something fantastic that can only be understood if you have ever done it. The sun on my skin. I gathered all my strength and turned around. Moving my face out of the puddle of puke was something I should have done earlier. However, the rays of sun light felt so good on my naked body.

Wait, I was naked. How did that come to happen? I wondered.

I was resting on my back. Soon the urge to piss came along. I didn't know where I was and the alcohol in my system wanted out.

I let it all out. And with a sigh came a bang on the toilet's door. 

Hey, you have to wake up, I need to take a dump so badly.

The voice on the other side commanded me to vacate this room and let life go on. But, how could I when I was pissing all over the place.

Hrms Coldwell

24.10.2014

I will destroy you

I headed to the toilet
I took my penis out
I began pissing
The music outside played:

"I was born into this

Everything turns to shit

The boy that you loved is the man that you fear

Peel off all those eyes and crawl into the dark,

You've poisoned all of your children to camouflage your scars

Pray unto the splinters, pray unto your fear

Pray your life was just a dream

The cut that never heals

Pray now baby, pray your life was just a dream

The world in my hands, there's no one left to hear you scream

There's no one left for you"

I remembered all my friends and hoes

I remembered all my friends and enemies

I liked pissing

I liked getting rid of all my father's scars
I prayed my life was just a dream
The cut that never heals
The smile that nonone ever sees

Hrms Coldwell

24.08.14

The Nobodies

I had a friend and he always liked to copy everyone. Big watches and leather. Denim jackets and palladium shoes. Camel smokes and heavy metal. He always liked what he did. 

Sad or happy, he was there. Always copying our modus vivendi. Because he could. Because we let him. Because it was in. Because there was no turning back.

"The toys all smell like children

And scab-knees will obey

I'll have to kneel on broomsticks

Just to make it go away"

Marilyn Manson sang privately in my bedroom parties. Our friend always mimicked us no mattter what he thought of us. No matter what we thought of him.

A guitar solo. A poem. A tear. He always did the same. We were one. We were one big mess. Same colors. Same shadows. My walls were red. But we could spot him in the dark.

"You were my mechanical bride 

You were phenobarbidoll 

A manniqueen of depression 

With the face of a dead star 

And I was a hand grenade 

That never stopped exploding 

You were automatic and as hollow as the "o" in god"

Manson kept singing. Our friend went to the toilet. We waited. He came back. 

"How was it?", I asked

"Relieving", he fired back

"What do you mean?" I continued

"The darkness left my body", he said.

Hrms Coldwell

18.8.2014

Go On & Smile, You Cunt!

Waking up to the forever-painful-reminder-of-having-drunk-way-too-much-wine-and-having-smoked-way-too-many-cigarettes-and-more-than-one-puff-of-white-widow was, strangely enough, becoming a habit.

It was 10:17 am and the birds were singing outside. I could hear their goddamn conversations as if they were sitting next to my left ear. I was always able to hear better with my left ear. It was like when women tell you that one of their tits is bigger than the other, or when serious looking people tell you that they have one arm or leg longer than the other. But for men, it's always the balls. One is always hanging lower than the other 'cuz it's bigger and produces more sperm, so that is why it's bigger and heavier. For me, it was my hearing abilities. I could hear better with my left ear.

I was still drunk, sweaty and I had this strong urge to piss. I could't get up. It hurt to even think. The noise outside felt like atom bombs exploding inside my skull. This had to be what if fells like when you die, or when you are born. Everything was so painful. The light, the sounds, the thoughts. Had I been born again?

I tried to recall the events that took place the night before. I just remembered I had tons of red wine. Fuck, I needed a cigarette. 

I managed to get out from the painful comfort of my own bed. I looked for a cigarette in a futile attempt to numb myself out of this all. I searched everywhere but apparently i had ran out of smokes. Deep inside my shoulder bag there was an almost destroyed joint. Not what I had been longing for but definitely something I could puff on, and maybe something that would help the pain go away.

I took out my zippo lighter and lit the crooked joint. I began smoking mother nature's remedy.

Soon I felt better. As if I had just begun feeling the booze kick in. It was nice. So I made my way into the toilet. I needed to release some pressure from my bladder. I lowered my briefs and took my cock out. I never liked wearing boxers. I had always liked to keep my cock and balls concealed into a nice bulging shape. Hence avoiding the uncomfortable feeling of my nuts jumping all round when I danced.   

I was sweating alcohol. With my left hand I held the joint. With my right one I held my cock. I puffed another white cloud of this miraculous medicine. I looked down and tried to aim my piss at the center of the toilet bowl. I didn't want to miss the spot. 

A nice, almost transparent discharge of piss came out of my cock making me feel  somewhat aroused. 

This was the side effects of drinking too much red wine, I thought.

I could smell the alcohol leaving my body in the form of urine. I exhaled what seemed to be a white wind whirl byproduct of the widow I was smoking.

I continued to piss. And as I did, I could feel my cock getting harder and harder. The feeling that you get when your cock is getting bigger, in your hand, someone else's mouth or in your pants, is something so amazing to try to describe it.

I began shaking my dick, as men always do when they are done pissing. All I could think of was my friend's almost wise words: "A mouth is a mouth. As long as a mouth is wrapped around your cock, you don't really care if it's a dude's or a chick's". All I could think of was that I wanted a mouth to suck on my hard cock. Goddamn red wine, I thought. It always makes me so fucking horny. I began to masturbate.

As I continued stroking I realized that this was not my toilet. And that someone had been standing behind the ajar doors long enough to catch a glimpse of me and my cock. 

A mouth is a mouth, I thought to myself.

Dick Pound

4.22.2014

Rhapsodizing In The Men's Room

I was ready to go out that night. Friday night. A long awaited time that repeated itself every 144 hours. The week was stressful enough not to focus all my might on the glorious Friday nights. 

Ready like any other day I spritzed my favorite cologne all over my neck, chest and finally all over my black leather jacket. I was ready.

Off I went. The red moon shone down on me. Hole's music was my soundtrack that evening. I loved the way the screaming 3-riff master pieces of Miss Love would make me feel when I walked through the darkness when I went drinking.

The first time I heard of Hole was in high school. During my angsty years. I would lock myself inside my own world and write stories and verses. Enjoying every moment of dread and fear. Enjoying the darkest moments of that part of my life. Learning their songs on my guitar and bass and performing each one of their songs just for myself.

I opened the doors of A1. I descended into a loud ever-changing cloud of light, smoke and music. I took my headphones off. Rolled the cable around them and carefully placed them inside my black leather shoulder bag. I paused my iPod and continued to walk down the stairs. 

Laser beams illuminated the haze above me and all around me. My friends were waiting for me at our usual table. Like every other Friday night. A nice cold pint of beer was already there waiting for me at my place. 

Cheers!!!, we shouted. And the night had officially begun.

My friends knew that I was a quiet person from time to time. They knew this and they didn't have any problem with me just sitting next to them. I, occasionally gave voice to thoughts and I was glad they would listen and appreciate my short moments articulated clarity.

It was Hole night. At least in my head. The laser beams turned blood red and The Pretty Reckless began playing. 

"Evil knocking at my door 

Evil making me its whore 

I don't mind if you take what's yours 

But give me mine"

Taylor Momsem began teasing my brain with her wrecking verses. The night had turned into a mosh pit,a full-on, drinks and spinning heads. The party had just become a Friday night party. 

"How you like me now?

Did I succeeded in making you proud?"

I began pissing. The darkness echoed through the walls of the toilet of A1. I was all alone. I could hear the crowd moving to the beat of the rumbling guitars of Momsen. I was all alone. Deep inside my own self. 

I like you alright and I am proud of you. I thought to myself.

Hrms Etc

15.4.2014