Every stop, every delay was agonizing. The urge hit with intensity when he was half way home. Now, he was thirty minutes from sweet relief.
Mario deeply regretted not going to the restroom before leaving work.
Turning onto his street, Mario’s hope rose. His house slowly came into view. He sped up. The tires of his Corolla squealed as he swerved into his driveway.
Mario had to go so bad it hurt.
“C’mon,” he said, anxiously. He cursed as his keys fell from his hands.
The front door shook on its hinges as Mario burst inside.
“Hi, honey. How was your day?” asked Anna, his wife.
The question annoyed him.
“Bathroom,” he said as he ran past her.
Lunging at the door handle to the bathroom, Mario crashed into the door. It didn’t open.
“Isabella’s having a shower,” said Anna.
The news made Mario groan. His fourteen year old daughter was famous for her thirty minute cleansing sessions.
“How long has she been in there?” Mario was now doing the bathroom dance.
“She just got in.”
Mario almost blacked out. He regained his senses and pounded on the door.
“Isabella! Get outta the shower. I gotta go to the bathroom,” Mario pleaded. He deeply regretted buying a house with only one bathroom.
“I just started. Hold it,” yelled Isabella.
Mario bristled at her cavalier attitude. “I’m coming in anyway, so you choose.”
“You’ll have to pick the lock,” called Isabella.
Mario doubled over. His anger, the stomach cramps and the irrepressible need to go to the bathroom, broke him. Anna gasped in horror.
The next day Mario and Anna started their search for a two bathroom home.