I Love Everybody (and Other Atrocious Lies) by Laurie Notaro Read Free Book Online

peppercorns and added to my food, or I could have popped them right into my mouth thinking that they were baby Coco Puffs.
    My doctor, however, continued to stare at me.
    “I’ve just got this thing about playing with my own tinkle,” I tried to explain as a last resort, but he was having none of it.
    “I’m not asking you to fingerpaint with it,” he explained as he sighed. “But we need to examine a stone to find out what caused them and how we can prevent them. And according to these X rays, you still have one left!”
    Damn that Charlie Watts! I thought, lagging behind and too mellow for his own good!
    “This is a prescription for a diuretic,” he said as he handed me the piece of paper. “Take these pills and drink lots of water for a week. And this time, catch the stone.”
    I nodded as the doctor started to leave the office.
    “Wait!” I cried. “How am I supposed to . . . catch it? My reflexes aren’t that sharp. I have problems catching a softball, let alone something the size of a Fruity Pebble.”
    “Go to a pet store and buy a fish net for an aquarium,” he informed me as he left. “But you need to make sure to use it
every time.
”
    Well, I guess I can do that, I thought to myself as I drove to the pet store. I guess I could pee into a little net. It wouldn’t be so hard. Carrying it to the bathroom at work would be a problem, though, I suddenly realized, so I’ll have to get a special little purse to hide it in.
    At the pet store, however, I understood that a little purse wasn’t quite going to cut it. In fact, it looked as if I was actually going to need a duffel bag, since the only nets in stock were easily large enough to capture a wide-mouth bass. Including the handle, some of the nets were the size of a rifle. Oh, that will be great, I said to myself. I’ll just walk around the newsroom looking like Lee Harvey Oswald every time my bladder sends me a signal.
    “Do you have anything smaller?” I asked the salesclerk. “I could have caught myself a medium-size second husband with this thing.”
    “Well, that’s the standard net,” he said. “How big is your tank?”
    “Um.” I thought for a moment. “Five gallons.”
    “And the type?” he asked.
    “Freshwater,” I added. “Or at least it usually is to begin with.”
    “Then that’s your net,” he said with a shrug.
    “Okay.” I sighed. “I’m just going to be honest with you. I need to pee in it.”
    There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between us.
    “You know, ma’am,” the salesclerk said as he shook his head. “I know the dog collars and the leashes may send out the wrong message to some people, but we’re really not in the fetish business.”
    “Fetish? It’s not a fetish!” I gasped. “It’s medical!”
    “Uh-huh,” he scoffed. “Like I haven’t heard that one before. It’s not like you have gold up there or anything!”
    “Wanna make a bet?” I snipped.
    Back at home in my bathroom, the net was proving to be something of a challenge. Not only did I suffer scratches on the backs of my legs trying to find the appropriate catching position, but I didn’t know exactly what to do with the net when my session had concluded. I knew I had to clean it somehow, but the thought of doing that at work was so horrible that when I fell asleep, I had dreams that kidney stones were floating around the office like butterflies, and I had to chase them with my net as I tried to run with my pants down around my ankles.
    The next morning, I was attempting to shove the net into my purse when my husband saw it.
    “Whoa,” he commented. “By the size of that net, it looks like you won’t be losing a kidney stone, you’ll be gaining a bowling ball.”
    “Oh, that’s it!” I cried. “I can’t do this! I can’t bring this net to work! What if someone sees me using this in the bathroom? I mean, I can only use the excuse ‘Smile, you’re on
Candid Camera
’ so many times in there, you know?”
    So I