Scenario:Bob, a man who needs to pee so bad he feels like he's gonna explode. but HATES peeing in the woods, or anywhere BUT a clean toilet, only problem, he's a WHOLE 2 DAYS away from the nearest rest stop
Create my version of this story
Bob, a man who needs to pee so bad he feels like he's gonna explode. but HATES peeing in the woods, or anywhere BUT a clean toilet, only problem, he's a WHOLE 2 DAYS away from the nearest rest stop
Bob Johnson
He is a truck driver navigating through the desert on his way to Phoenix. He is determined, anxious, and resilient. Bob faces the challenging dilemma of needing to urinate urgently while being far from a restroom. He struggles with the thought of defecating in his truck but ultimately resolves to use a plastic bottle as a makeshift urinal. Despite his discomfort and fear of contamination, he manages to relieve himself to avoid more severe complications.
Lana
She is a passenger on the truck, heading to Phoenix. She is calm, observant, and supportive. Lana notices Bob’s distress and offers her help by providing him with a plastic bottle to urinate in. She demonstrates kindness and consideration for Bob’s difficult situation, maintaining composure even as she faces her own fears of the possibility of contamination. Her presence helps alleviate some of Bob’s anxiety.
The Desert
It is the location through which Bob drives, characterized by its vastness and harsh conditions. The desert is unforgiving, with limited amenities for basic needs like restrooms. The environment adds to Bob's difficulty in finding a suitable place to relieve himself, intensifying his anxiety and discomfort during his journey.
I gotta pee.
Like, really badly.
If I don’t find a restroom soon, I’m gonna explode.
The problem is, I’m about two days away from the nearest rest stop.
I hate peeing in the woods.
I just can’t do it.
I don’t care how much of an emergency it is.
I’d rather hold it until I feel like my bladder is going to rupture.
Anything but that.
Now, I’m driving through the desert, and there isn’t anything around me for miles and miles.
Not even a single house.
My passenger, Lana, looks at me sympathetically when I groan and shift in my seat.
"Bob? Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Fine."
I shift again, trying to get comfortable, but it’s no use.
There’s nothing I can do to make myself more comfortable when I feel like I might burst at any second.
"Do you need to stop?"
Lana asks, concern etched on her face.
I shake my head.
"I don’t have time for that."
She looks like she wants to argue with me, but she says nothing and turns back to look out the window.
I wish I could drive faster, but I’m already pushing the limits of safety as it is.
Anything over sixty-five on this road and I risk losing control of the truck.
My bladder screams for attention as another bump jolts the truck.
I glance over at Lana, swallowing my pride.
She’s been driving trucks longer than me.
I’ve seen her license.
She’s got more experience than I do, and she’s a hell of a lot more patient.
"Would you mind?"
I ask, gesturing weakly at the wheel.
She nods, understanding.
We pull over onto the dusty shoulder, and we switch seats.
It’s a tight squeeze in the cabin of the truck, and we both end up with bruises from banging into the gearshift and steering wheel.
But we manage to switch places without too much trouble.
Lana puts the truck into gear and eases back out onto the road while I stumble toward the sleeper compartment in the back of the cab. I don’t even bother closing the curtain between the cab and the sleeper compartment.
I just dive for my duffel bag and start rummaging through it, searching for anything that might help me out.
The truck lurches forward as Lana picks up speed again, and I have to grab onto the wall to keep from falling over.
Rummaging through my duffel bag, I find an empty Gatorade bottle and unscrew the cap with shaking hands.
The truck sways gently back and forth, making it hard to keep my balance in the cramped space.
I position myself in front of the wall and hold the bottle in front of me, trying to angle myself just right.
Just as I’m about to let go, Lana hits a pothole and I stumble forward, banging my elbow against the wall.
"Ow!"
I mutter, steadying myself against the wall.
I take a deep breath and try again, positioning myself carefully in front of the wall.
Finally, I let go, feeling a wave of relief wash over me as I finally release all that pent-up pressure.
It feels like hours since I last peed, and I’m grateful to finally be able to relax.
As I finish up and screw the cap back onto the bottle, I hear Lana’s voice through the cabin divider.
"Bob? You might want to check out this weather report."
I glance up at the small TV mounted on the wall above my head. The weather report is showing dark clouds gathering over the horizon, with a red warning symbol flashing on the screen.
I frown, gripping the bottle tightly in my hand.
This isn’t good.
We can’t afford to get stuck in a storm out here in the middle of nowhere.
I need to hurry up and get back behind the wheel so we can try to outrun it.
But before I can move, Lana speaks up again.
"Bob? Are you okay back there?"
"Yeah," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady despite my shaking hands.
"Just finishing up."
"Okay," she says.
"Just hurry it up. We don’t have much time before this storm hits."
I nod, even though she can’t see me through the divider.
"Bob, there's something else you should know," Lana calls out, her voice tense.
"What is it?" I ask, quickly zipping up my duffel bag.
"The radio just mentioned a flash flood warning for this area," she replies, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.
