You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Going to the bathroom and seeing a nuclear glow from the urinal.
The urinal lights up like the Crystal Ball in the Wizard of Oz.
A glowing urinal is scary for a dude. Imagine what it’s like for a female who uses a urinal.
Now that’s a thought, right?
But seriously, I just used the rest room and I thought I was peeing on a nuclear reactor.
I was confused, as if I had been where no man had been before.
Did the sign on the door say Men’s Room, or Warp Core Reactor – U.S.S. Enterprise.
Standing there in all my glory, I feel like I am peeing on three-mile island in full meltdown.
It’s so bright, I have to wear shades, so they say.
I look down at the urinal cake before me and I’ll be damned if I don’t have to shield my eyes.
The glow is brilliant like a low rider convention with neon colored under-carriages.
The bathroom has a heavenly light as if it has been visited by the archangel.
I put my hand to my eyes, shielding my pupils from the brilliance.
“Bad day to pee without my blast shield,” I say aloud.
My mind begins to race. Why so bright? Why such a neon color?
Why does it seem like my pee is irradiated?
Then I remember; I’m on a new regiment of vitamins.
I have recently decided to change my diet, to eat healthier, less M & M’s and more vitamins.
So today, I wolfed down an alphabet soup of pills and potions designed to build me up and make me a better man.
A and B and C and D and Zinc.
Horse tablets full of life sustaining nutrients.
I am unquestionably a walking alphabet soup of revitalization.
Apparently the human body can only handle so much health at any given time.
What it doesn’t use, it expels like a Tia Juana sewer pipe into the Pacific.
And when the body excretes an alphabet soup full of vitamin rich compounds, it tends to make a brilliant exit.
For whatever reason pedestrian pee turns into a Yellow Brick Road of excess. My urinal has come to life with dancing little people and red ruby slippers.
Suddenly what was boring yellow has transformed into Harlequin, a fancy interior decorator word for bright green accentuated with a phaser blast of yellow.
Vitamins that cannot be absorbed are blasted out of the body like a neon colored fountain at the Bellagio.
Molecular rich urine blasts across the spectrum like a streak of atmospheric gold burning like a sparkler across a velvet-black sky.
“Wow; awesome,” I say.
Just then a co-worker walks in.
It’s always awkward when you are talking to yourself at a urinal using words like “wow and awesome.”
As I stand there embarrassed, about to flush, I feel my face heating up from the brilliant light of wasted vitamin energy.
Like staring into the mushroom cloud of Hiroshima, I bask in the nuclear fall out of my own vitamin rich urine.
My forehead begins to perspire as I zip up.
My co-worker eye balls me suspiciously.
I watch the equivalent of two vitamin charged sunsets circle the urinal drain and disappear into the darkness.
Like chasing a leprechaun over the rainbow, the radiation glow swirls and then disappears into the enigmatic stew that flows beneath my work place.
Just then my boss walks in.
“Hey. What was that bright light?,” he asks.
I smile as I wash my hands.
“Vitamins boss.”
The other employee looks at me incredulously as I throw my paper towel into the waste basket.
My boss looks at us oddly.
I wipe the last vitamin soaked perspiration ball off my head and walk down the hall.
I feel strong. Like I’m glowing on the inside.
I wonder if all the vitamins of the periodic chart are scrubbing my insides clean, nourishing my muscles, making my pancreas sing an operatic note of approval.
I step into the newsroom, my loins glowing, my eyes sparkling, my hair on fire with vitamin D sunshine.
I move with the spritely step of a 17-year-old tom cat.
It’s good to guzzle an alphabet soup of vitamins, I muse to myself.
Even if the body can only handle so much healthiness at any given time.
Life’s Crazy™