Where to Pee on a Pirate Ship

by L. L. Muir

  Logan and his friends ate first, while we played historical pirate games on the upper deck. Apparently, pirates weren’t really inventive. Most games were just competitions to see who could do something the longest, or the fastest. They were also big on arm wrestling.

  We were given a sample of the salt-preserved fish that pirates and sailors would have eaten, then thankfully, we were fed a better tasting dinner. Most of the kids didn’t appreciate the lobster and shrimp, but I loved it. I was hoping to sit near Brooklyn, but her table was full of other girls.

  I ended up sitting with a few guys she had invited. None of them seemed to know why Brooklyn had chosen them. Of course I pretended I didn’t know either. They seemed to think I was a friend of the family, considering my costume and all. I told them I’d called the number at the bottom of the invitation. None of them remembered seeing a phone number.

  I looked over at Brooklyn. She looked back and smiled. And suddenly I thought maybe my mom had been right to wonder if I’d been invited to the party as Brooklyn Stowe’s date.

  I don’t remember if I ate dessert or not.

  Thinking up little movies in my head—movies that involved me and Brooklyn—kept me a little distracted until it was our turn to walk the plank.

  We first got instructions from a real life stunt man who told us how to try to turn in the air and land on our backs, even with our hands tied. He promised someone was going to be down there to help us get off the big pillow and there was nothing to worry about.

  We lined up. Apparently Brooklyn and I were supposed to be the first guinea pigs for everything that day, or at least for our group. My heart jumped up in my throat when I saw her fall off the end of the seriously long plank, even though I believed she was going to be all right. That’s when I realized I should have been a gentleman and gone first.

  When Mr. Stowe tied the blindfold around my head, it was see-through, as promised. No wonder Brooklyn had been able to glide down to the end of the wood—she’d been able to see just fine. But stepping up onto the plank was a whole lot more horrible for me than for her. There was a cannon on the edge of the railing, and suddenly Logan stood behind it, grinning and shooting giant black Nerf balls at me while I tried to keep my balance.

  “Fire!” he yelled, just before each one hit me in the back.

  Of course the cannon balls didn’t hurt—they only scared the crap out of me. I kept worrying, what if I fall off too soon? What if I miss the giant cushion? So what if it’s the size of a school bus? What if I break my leg? What if the doctors have to cut off my costume to get to my wounds? How will my parents be able to pay for it?

  I was beginning to think the Stowe family tried a little too hard to make Logan the happiest kid on earth. I was also getting really tired of him yelling.

  Before I knew it, I was out on the edge. It was more bouncy than the diving board at the city swimming pool. It was a good thing I was looking down into the middle of the pillow because I was pretty sure Logan’s aim was improving with each shot, and the next one would hit me in the head. I was going to slide off awkwardly, get spanked by the plank, and flip onto my face. I would suffocate before anyone could reach me.

  But then I was falling. Turning. Landing like a feather. Panicking when the cushion rose up above me on both sides. But I rolled to the edge, like I do on my trampoline. Then I was on the ground, on my feet.

  There was applause.

  I assumed Logan had just landed a foam ball on someone’s head, but the stunt guy slapped me on the back and peeled off my blindfold. Kids were leaning over the rail and clapping for me.

  “Beautiful,” the stunt man said, then untied my hands. “There are stairs right there.”

  “I thought I was going to pee my pants,” I told him. Then I realized I might do just that. As Lord of the Pirates, Logan had demanded more wine way too many times already. And every time Logan had taken a drink, Brooklyn and I had, too. It was finally catching up with me.

  I ran up the stairs, trying to remember how I’d gotten my stupid pants buttoned and wondering how fast I could get them un-buttoned.

  People were wandering all over the ship. Dylan’s friends were the last group to have dinner in the galley. Brooklyn’s were walking the plank, and Logan’s friends were playing games around the helm—that giant steering wheel. As soon as Dylan’s friends were done eating, there was going to be dancing.

  And because Mad Rush was not invited to the party, there was a very good chance I was going to get to dance with Miss Brooklyn Stowe. Just the thought of it made me need to pee even worse than before.

  It was getting dark, but I was still able to see what was behind each cabin door. Not a bathroom in sight.

  “More wine!” I heard Logan shout and was grateful I was too far away from him to be served. While it was very cool, that silver goblet was the last thing I wanted to see at the moment.

  Little lights flashed on, one string at a time, until the whole ship was lit.

  A kid was wandering by, alone, so I asked him if he knew where the bathrooms were.

  “I think there was one downstairs.”

  “Where we watched the movie?”

  He just nodded and walked away.

  I ran to the hold and hurried down the ladder.

  Nothing. No bathroom. Not even a bucket. The place was completely empty, so I might have used a bucket if there’d been one. That’s how badly I needed to go.

  I hurried back up the ladder. Mrs. Stowe was standing with her back to me. She was holding that tray. It only had one goblet on it, and I just knew she was looking for me, to make me have another drink. She started to turn around and I hurried in the other direction.

  I was in serious trouble. My bladder felt hot and cold at the same time. I tried really hard to think dry thoughts. It was no use. I was going to have to ask, out loud, no matter who overheard me.

  Then Brooklyn was there, walking toward me, holding her goblet.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ask her. I couldn’t look at that goblet, knowing there was more red punch in it.

  I turned and nodded at no one in particular, then walked away, like someone had called my name. I wandered between people until I was sure I’d lost her, then I looked out, over the railing, and saw...Heaven.

  Port-a-potties.

  There was a long line of girls in front of one. About twenty feet away, there was another with two guys headed that way. As I hurried for the stairs, I figured if they hustled, those two could be finished and out of my way before I made it around the ship.

  Then I heard screams. Then silence.

  As I rounded the bow, I saw those two guys running away, into the corn stalks.

  Kids were pointing. The boy’s Port-o-potty was lying on its side.

  For a split second, I felt desperate enough to lift the sucker by myself and get inside. But not with everyone watching. And if I used all my muscles to stand it up, I’d end up peeing my pants from the strain.

  Of course I kept walking toward the field, as if I hadn’t been headed for the bathroom at all.

  I walked down a wide row, then turned, then turned again. I stumbled a couple times, but I kept walking. When I was sure I was a good ways into the middle of the field, I took a deep breath and reached for those stupid buttons.

  Then I heard a giggle.

  Then I heard a murmur.

  Then I realized I was only about five feet away from a guy and a girl who were hiding in the corn, macking.

  Maybe being so surprised is what dried me up. Maybe the field was so dry, it was able to take my mind off water. Maybe my bladder had just a little stretch left in it, because I was able to turn around and head back out of the field without wetting myself.

  It was a good thing the ship’s lights were bright enough to show me the direction to take to find my way out of the maze. The corn was like eight feet tall that year. When the Monster Mash song cranked up across the field, I was hoping that the miracle worker, Mr. Stowe, might have gotten
the Port-o-potty up and functioning again. But as I walked out of the cornstalks, I saw the big blue box was still on its side.

  “Don’t you remember,” said one kid to another, “there was a pirate bathroom on the ship?”

  My bladder woke up again, but I silently promised it I was headed for a bathroom. It just needed to hold tight for a few more minutes. I made it up the stairs. Then I walked back toward the cabins, ignoring people who called out the name Mongo.

  I checked every room again, then I went looking for Mr. Stowe. I had promised my bladder a few minutes. I figured I had two left.

  “Mr. Stowe.” Man I was glad to see him. “Is there a pirate bathroom somewhere on the ship?”

  He laughed. “Of course. We wanted the ship to be as authentic as possible.” He led me to the rail, back past the Nerf ball cannon, then flipped up what looked like a wooden toilet seat. When it came to a stop, it was hanging over the side of the ship. “See?”

  I smiled and nodded. I had one more minute. I was in pain. If I didn’t find a place to pee, my bladder was going to explode inside of me and poison my insides. I was sure of it. As I turned away from Mr. Stowe, I almost said, “It’s been nice knowing you.”

  I crossed to the other railing and looked out at the Port-o-potties again. How embarrassing would it be to run up to the girl’s box and demand to go next? But I had three choices. I could do that, and die of embarrassment, or I could pee my pants and die of embarrassment, or I could just let my bladder explode inside me and just die, period.

  But I didn’t get to make that choice. It was made for me. My minute was up.

  And so I stood there and peed my pants.

  The boots? Yeah, they got it too. It was going to cost a fortune, but the Stowes were never going to get my costume back. And thanks to a well-lit dance floor/ship deck, the Stowes were about to find out why they didn’t really want it back anyway.

  I heard a gasp, but didn’t want to turn and face anyone. I was just going to stand there and stare out at the field until every last person had gone away.

  “Swab the deck!” Logan shouted nearby. “Time to swab the deck, Matey!”

  He had seen me. In a few seconds, my life was going to be over.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then I was knocked sideways--by a powerful stream of water. I couldn’t keep my feet under me and landed on my butt. In a matter of seconds, I was drenched from head to toe. The warm urine in my pants and boots was replaced by cold water, and lots of it. And as the Monster Mash song started up for the third time since the dancing started, Logan turned that rope-looking fire hose onto the squealing dancers.

  Brooklyn rushed past bodies to get to her brother, but he just laughed and hosed her off her feet. Some kids started walking the plank. Logan hosed them off one by one. I didn’t know where he’d been, but Mr. Stowe finally showed up. He looked pretty stressed out and I thought Logan Stowe might finally get a little discipline. But I couldn’t let that happen. The kid had saved my life.

  There was no way I was going to be able to leave my house, let alone attend another day of school, if anyone had witnessed my accident. I still remember, to this day, who the two kids were in my second grade class who peed their pants during a movie. It didn’t matter that the teacher was so mean she wouldn’t let them go to the bathroom. That memory is never going to go away.

  So if an eighth-grader peed his pants... Well, it would probably end up in the yearbook as one of the year’s most memorable events.

  But Logan Stowe had saved me from that. And as I watched Mr. Stowe move nearer and nearer, I wondered how I could save him back.

  Logan grinned at his dad.

  “Don’t you do it,” Mr. Stowe warned.

  Logan laughed and nailed his dad, right in the crotch!

  The guy doubled over and Logan then aimed for his butt, washing him to the other side of the ship where the other kids were clinging to the railing.

  I looked for Mrs. Stowe and saw her lunging for the bow of the ship where the DJ was cowering behind his music system. A second later, the Monster Mash song blasted through the sound of rushing water.

  Logan dropped the hose and started dancing. His eyes were shut. He was still grinning. I moved up behind him and turned off the water supply. Everyone cheered.

  Logan put his hands together above his head like he’d just won the heavyweight championship. Lidia wandered over and started dancing with him. The volume dropped a little, then Mrs. Stowe made her way over to her husband. He was sitting with his back to the railing, with his head leaned back and his arms hanging over his knees. It didn’t matter that there was a good inch of water on the deck, she sat down next to him. Then the funniest thing...

  They wrapped their arms around each other and started laughing.

  A minute later, everyone was laughing. Everyone but me. I still didn’t want Logan to get into trouble, and I had to make sure he didn’t.

  I walked over to the Stowes.

  “Um,” I said. “This is all my fault.”

  Logan came up behind me. I hadn’t noticed the music had stopped.

  “Mom. Dad.” He put a hand on my shoulder. My wig dripped all over him. “It is not Cameron’s fault. It was a assident.”

  Oh, great. I should have kept my big mouth shut. Now everyone was going to hear it anyway.

  “Cameron spilled his drink,” Logan said, trying very hard to enunciate each word. “So I had to swab the deck, just like real pirates would do.”

  I was saved. Again.

  “Excellent work,” said his dad. “But we’re going to have to end the party now, so all your friends can go home and get warm.”

  Logan stood up on his toes, very excited.

  “They can get warm if they dance,” he said.

  And we did. We all did.

  The DJ agreed to stay and risk his sound system. The water drained off the sides of the ship. Hot chocolate was served on the poop deck, and I got to dance, twice, with Brooklyn Stowe. Of course she talked about Rush the whole time, but I didn’t care. She made me a pirate prince for the night. It didn’t matter that I would turn back into a pumpkin in the morning.

  The Stowes lined up by the road to say good-bye to everyone as they left, and to explain to parents who needed explanations for why their child was going home wet. I shook Logan’s hand and he yanked me close for a hug.

  “Cameron,” he said quietly. “I don’t know why you didn’t jus’ go pee in the corn like the reth of us."

  THE END

  Fun facts about the story

  WHERE TO PEE ON A PIRATE SHIP

  *There is, indeed, a Monster Mash every October. Logan is always the star of the show. Yes, his name really is Logan. And the Monster Mash song is played far too many times.

  The following characters were all based on real live people:

  Cameron Casey (A combination of Cameron and Kaycee)

  Dylan

  Coach Tyson

  Lindsay

  Ryan

  Taylor and Taytum

  Christa & Jeanette

  Mad Rush—(long story)

  Mongo

  and of course, Logan.

  The day after the Monster Mash, each year, Logan does announce what his costume will be the following year. Yes, last year, he was Fozzy Bear. As far as we know, no one has ever wet their pants...

  You can find out more about the books written by L.L. Muir on her website at www.llmuir.weebly.com She would love to hear what you thought about this book!

  Look for

  Keefer Boone and The Gladiator’s Secret

  Coming in 2013

  CHAPTER ONE

  Never pick a neighbor's flowers. I'd heard it all my life.

  But if Grandma didn't want me to pick the neighbor's flowers, then she shouldn't ask for flowers for her birthday, now should she?

  The morning of Grandma Harmon’s birthday I scouted yards for anything that bloomed. I figured anyone who didn’t live on her street was fair game. A p
air of scissors stuck out of my back pocket, but I covered up the red handle with my shirt. I must have walked a mile before I learned that on Saturday mornings, in a small town like Hazelton, Idaho, everyone was outside working in their yards.

  Why couldn't her birthday have been on a Tuesday?

  Finally, I found something colorful in a garden with no people. I bent over and picked up a rock near a stumpy bush. Its flowers looked like pink butterflies. I was trying to act cool and casual, like I was just looking, but the scissors tipped out of my pocket and clattered on the broken sidewalk. A guy’s head popped up from behind a hedge about ten feet away and watched me stuff the things back into my pocket. He looked down at the pink bush, then back up at me. When he headed around the end of the bushes, I took off.

  “Don’t run with scissors!” he yelled.

  I didn’t stop. I just pulled the stupid things out of my pocket and dropped them like a stinky banana peel. I only looked up once, at the green sign on the corner, so I’d know which street I had to avoid for the rest of my life.

  To get as far away from selfish gardeners as possible, I headed into town, four streets over. My heart stopped thumping in my chest. That scared feeling went away—you know, that feeling that makes you run real fast or you’ll pee your pants—that one. I started to think about Grandma again, wondering what else she might need more than flowers.

  She would definitely need a new pair of scissors. She just didn’t know it yet.

  There were only three places I ever went in Hazelton: the movie theatre, the gas station, and Hinton’s, the grocery store. Grandpa Harmon used to call it The Worm and Wiener because night-crawlers and hotdogs were the best sellers.

  Grandpa’s gone now, but I really miss the funny names he had for things. He called his pillow The Great White Biscuit. And when he said it was time to bite The Great White Biscuit, it was time for bed.