Christopher Charlton, Paiten's Psych Ward Neighbor from "My Favorite Magazine"

 

Characters Going to the Bathroom

***CHARACTERS GOING TO THE BATHROOM***

When I was little enough to think that piss and shit were funny, I watched movies and TV shows with one burning question in mind: “Why don’t these characters ever go to the bathroom?” Or a more appropriate question for my age group would have been, “Why don’t these characters ever make pee-pee and doo-doo?” This question would continue to burn like an asshole after eating too many spicy wings, something I have too much experience with. It’s true, though, even after all these years of maturing (somewhat): characters never seem to have to go to the bathroom even after eating questionable food. You know why? Because nobody wants to see it, that’s why!

It’s like George Carlin once said: “I’ve never really understood it nor have I really cared for it.”

“I’m going to the bathroom to take a shit.”

“NEVER MIND! Do what you have to do in the bathroom and leave me out of it! And don’t describe it when you come back!”

“Boy, you should have seen it…”

“NEVER MIND!”

“It set off the smoke alarm.”

“NEVER MIND!”

If a character is going to make pee-pee and doo-doo, there better be a plot-related reason for it. Sure, constantly visiting the john would make for realistic storytelling, but not necessarily good storytelling. For instance, let’s say in my rewritten novel Beautiful Monster, Shelly had Windham shackled to her bed and suddenly had the urge to take a wee-wee tinkle. Let’s say she drank too many of her signature milkshakes, without the sedative drugs, of course. How exactly would her urinary needs be met in a way that moves the plot along quicker than her digestive system moves things along? Let’s say she relieves herself over Windham’s face like a Russian prostitute. Does this help the story? No, it doesn’t. Does it turn the reader off and not take Shelly seriously as a femme fatale? Absolutely!

I can only think of a handful of times where bathroom trips helped advance the story along without being disgusting as fuck (most of the time). Quentin Tarantino used bathroom trips as a plot device for Pulp Fiction at least three different times. Vincent had to go to the bathroom when he took Mia Wallace home, leaving her all alone to OD. Had he not gone to the bathroom, the overdosing could have been prevented and therefore, there’d be no infamous scene where Vincent stabs Mia in the chest with an adrenaline boost. Vincent also happens to be on the toilet when Butch goes back to his apartment to get his father’s watch. Had Vincent not been in the bathroom, he would have killed Butch and there’d be no infamous dungeon scene later on. And finally, Vincent goes to the bathroom during the restaurant robbery scene. Had he stayed at his table, he would have thwarted the robbery and Jules wouldn’t have his come to Jesus moment of clarity.

Another example of bathroom plot devices being used to full effect comes from Tales From the Hood. No, I’m not referring to any scene where Crazy K shits himself on the spinning table, because that never happened. I’m talking about the first story, which deals with racist cops. One of the cops urinates on a civil rights activist’s grave. Had he not done that, the zombie wouldn’t have risen from the grave to rip the cop in half and therefore, there’d be no comeuppance for the rest of the cops.

In short, the whole reason why you never see characters going to the bathroom at inconvenient times is because nobody wants to see it. Nobody wants to see Gimley from Lord of the Rings taking a massive dump nor do they want to smell it. Nobody wants to see WWE wrestlers have accidents in the ring, which has happened before, regrettably. Stone Cold Steve Austin once shit his trunks while getting body slammed by Yokozuna in a match in South Africa. Good thing his trunks were black.

Are you sick and tired of all of this middle school toilet humor? If so, you’ve just confirmed your own reason why you don’t want to see toilet breaks in movies and TV shows unless they serve a bigger purpose. Rarely does it serve that bigger purpose, though. If bathroom breaks were as random and haphazard as they were in real life, it would border on Deus Ex Machina storytelling and that’s a big no-no. Suppose Darth Vader had food poisoning at Taco Bell right before his light saber fight with Luke Skywalker in The Empire Strikes Back. If Vader went to the bathroom, Luke could get an easy kill and wouldn’t lose his hand nor learn that Vader is his father.

I feel disgusted for having written this blog entry, but it’s a topic that I’m sure was on everybody’s mind at some point in life, whether in middle school or adulthood. We’ve all thought it, but we’ve never actually dug deeper into the question. Maybe it’s best that we haven’t. Maybe this controversy should be put to bed once and for all. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***SONG DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

NURSE: Excuse me, doctor? Do you have a moment?

DOCTOR: A moment? What’s the question?

NURSE: More like a situation. A gentleman in exam three.

DOCTOR: What’s the problem?

NURSE: That is the problem: we’re not sure.

DOCTOR: Do you have the chart?

NURSE: Right here.

DOCTOR: Hmm…not much here, is there.

NURSE: No, doctor. No obvious physical trauma and vitals are stable.

DOCTOR: A name?

NURSE: No, sir.

DOCTOR: Did somebody drop him off? Maybe we can speak to them. Let’s get some background on this fellow.

NURSE: No ID. Nothing. He won’t speak to anyone.

DOCTOR: Well, let’s go and say hello.

PATIENT:…

DOCTOR: Good morning, I’m Doctor Lawson. How are you today?

PATIENT:…

DOCTOR: How are you today?

PATIENT:…

DOCTOR: Look son, you’re in a safe place. We want to help you in whatever way we can, but you need to talk to us. We can’t help you otherwise. So what happened? Tell me everything.

-“Lost Keys (Blame Hofmann)” by Tool-

Tristan Jealous

VERSE 1

Dr. Jealous, what has become of me?

Can you give me something to set me free?

A shot of horse to keep me cheery and bright?

A can of caffeine to keep me up all night?

Laziness and comfort, my two best friends

A friendship this close rarely ever ends

Can you scrape me out of my bed?

So I can meet my goals, keep my ego fed?

VERSE 2

Dr. Jealous, I have something to prove

I need my fix to keep me on the move

I came to the protest with my cardboard sign

And a pocket of pills to make me feel fine

I can face the world one demon at a time

But all at once? That’s the steepest climb

Here comes the circus, here come the clowns

Not one safe space in this crumbling town

VERSE 3

Dr. Jealous, do you think she likes me?

Is this dangerous risk even worth trying?

Pop a Xanax or two, maybe even three

Only then will she see the best of me

I sit in the park trying to remain calm

Another day’s dosage in my shaking palm

Maybe I should turn and walk away

Save my courage for yet another day

BRIDGE

Tristan Jealous, I’m overzealous

I’m feeling a little bit rebellious

Call a medic, yes, I said it

My chart is in need of an edit

I cannot take this, I cannot fake it

I’m not sure if I can even make it

Doctor, doctor, help me out now

‘Cause I’m not ready to bow down

VERSE 4

Dr. Jealous, I can’t reach the phone

I’m trapped in this white cell all alone

The nurses told me over and over again

That I’ll be free when eternity ends

Everyone here is blending together

Washed away like stormy weather

Dr. Jealous, I’m calling your name

Please tell them that I’m not to blame

I Want Presents

Dr. Kate Spencer peered through the peephole of Glenn Robertson’s padded cell with pity and sympathy. He just sat there cross-legged with thinning brown hair, a gray T-shirt, and blue pajama pants, repeating the same line over and over again: “I want presents.” Dr. Spencer thought about how bureaucratic her mental hospital had become: sedate, lock up, repeat. No cures, no real treatments, just keeping these poor people under lock and key. A solitary tear smeared Kate’s makeup as she thought about Glenn sitting there with that goofy faraway look in his eyes. All of those drugs and all of those treatments, what for?

The head doctor knew in her heart that there had to be another way to get through to her patients. There had to be more to this hospital than just the business aspect of it. Why did everything have to be for profit? Wasn’t there just one instance where human dignity trumped the almighty dollar bill? Kate knew she was risking her career by trying this new approach, but seeing all of these depressed patients weighed too heavily on her conscience and she couldn’t take any more of it. She wiped the tear from her eye and told the two orderlies that they could leave. They nodded and did so.

Dr. Spencer took a deep breath and steadied herself before entering Glenn’s cell with no protection from the nurses and orderlies. The mental patient didn’t take his mile-long gaze off of the opposite wall. He just sat there like a dope long after Kate closed the cell door. She said in a motherly voice, “Hello? Hello? Is there anybody in there?”

It took a while, but Glenn turned to meet Kate’s eyes. He had a little bit of drool running down his chin as he said, “I want presents.”

“Yes, we all know you want presents, Mr. Robertson,” said Dr. Spencer. She sat next to Glenn in the same cross-legged position as her patient and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He blushed and looked down at his lap. “Guess what day it is?”

“I want presents.”

“That’s right, Glenn: it’s that time of year alright. It’s Christmas Eve! I know Christmas is your favorite holiday. But before I reveal my big surprise to you, you and I need to talk about something. It’s about your health,” said Kate.

“I want presents.”

“I know you do,” said Kate as she fluffed Glenn’s horseshoe hair. “But you need to listen to me for a few minutes. I can’t help you otherwise. Glenn, do you have any idea how much time has passed since you first came here?”

The patient shrugged his shoulders and allowed a spot of drool to splash his pajama pants. Kate’s answer was, “Fifteen years. You’ve been living in this hospital for fifteen long years. You were admitted here at the tender age of twenty-five when your parents died in a plane crash. You had a traumatic breakdown. You couldn’t find work. You couldn’t find anybody to take care of you. So fifteen years later, here you are. It doesn’t seem that long ago, but that’s only because we’ve kept you sedated and drugged throughout most of your stay. I know it’s wrong, trust me, I do. My hands were tied, even as the head doctor of this facility.”

Glenn tucked his head and sobbed softly while sniffing mucus up his nose. “I want presents! I want presents!”

“You see, that’s the thing,” said Kate while patting Glenn on the back. “Presents are not going to bring your parents back. They’re not going to help you find a place to live or a job to work at. But what they can do is bring you back to that sense of nostalgia you once had. You loved Christmas. Your face lit up like a Christmas tree when you opened those presents. If I bring you back to that special moment, you have to promise that you’ll tell me everything. I want to hear more about your life than the fact that you want presents. Okay, big guy?”

“I want presents.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Dr. Spencer before planting a playful kiss on the top of his head. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do. Your cell has a PA system as you already know, which is what we use to wake you up and give you dinner or medicine. Well, today on Christmas Eve, your sound system is going to be used for something else entirely. Consider this your early Christmas present. You want presents? Here you go.”

Kate pulled a remote out of her lab coat pocket and aimed it at the speaker box in the high corner of the cell. One press of the button later and the sounds of rhythmic heart beats surrounded the cell. Thump-thump…thump-thump…thump-thump. Glenn’s stupefied trance turned into a silly grin with drool running down his T-shirt.

The heart beats were accompanied by a glockenspiel recording of the Christmas classic “Silent Night”. Glenn’s smile grew wider and he crouched further in his sitting position. He nodded off for a few seconds and then jerked back to reality. He nodded off again and woke back up. This cycle repeated itself until the song was over, in which case he fell backwards and made snow angels when Dr. Spencer stood up to give him room.

“I want presents…I want pres…I wan pre…I wa…pre….I…I…” His nirvana ended in a flood of tears when he realized the moment was temporary.

Dr. Spencer knelt down and held his hand in hers while petting his arm hair with her other hand. “I’m sorry, Glenn. I really thought this would have helped you. I didn’t know it would bring you so much pain. I’m sorry. I really am.” She slowly stood back up and hung her head dejectedly as she trudged toward the cell door.

“I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go home!” sobbed Glenn. His snow angel motions were quickening and began to resemble autistic arm flapping instead.

Dr. Spencer gave him a wide-eyed look of shock as she heard the first real words he said other than “I want presents”. Yes, Glenn was still sobbing like the small child he believed himself to be, but this was the only real progress that no bureaucratic drugging procedure could have ever made. She knelt beside him again and rubbed his belly like a rolled over puppy-duppy.

“Listen to me, Glenn,” she said in a soothing voice. “We can’t let you out on the streets just yet. You can’t go back home. Another family is already living there. Your family has been so far behind on the payments that the bank had no choice but to foreclose on them. If I let you out now, where will you go? Who will you turn to now that you have no family remaining?”

Glenn relaxed his body, smiled at Dr. Spencer, and said, “I’ll turn to you!”

Tears welled up in Dr. Spencer’s eyes as she smiled at her patient. She rubbed them away with her lab coat sleeve, placed her hand on her chest lovingly, and said, “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard from my patients. You really mean that, don’t you? You’re not mad at me for all of these years I’ve kept you here?”

Glenn’s smile faded and the tears returned. “You’re the closest thing to a mother I have, Dr. Spencer. I love you.”

Both doctor and patient’s eyes became excessively wet at the outpours of emotion. It took fifteen years to get through to Glenn Robertson. Fifteen years of sedatives. Fifteen years of untested drugs. Fifteen years of being locked up for simply being sad. In this moment, they were free. Glenn wasn’t out on the streets just yet, but he was there in spirit. Dr. Kate Spencer wasn’t out from behind her desk, but her chains were loosening with every tear and every loving gesture. The doctor and patient hugged each other and sobbed into their shoulders.

They didn’t want to let go, but a boisterous male voice from the now opened cell door shouted, “This is bullshit!” Kate and Glenn looked up to see two orderlies with an electric lance in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. One orderly bellowed, “Dr. Spencer, you know there’s a rule against this kind of treatment! Mr. Robertson is being treated for a serious condition and you’re just…”

“I’m just what?!” roared Kate while standing back up and acting as a border between the orderlies and Glenn. “Is it so crazy and insane to believe that people’s lives matter more than procedure? Isn’t there more to life than making billions of fucking dollars? You two don’t give a shit about these patients! You give a shit about cashing your paycheck and nothing more! If you want to get to this poor innocent boy behind me, you know exactly who you have to go through!”

The orderlies’ faces changed from authoritative rage to solemn contemplation. Everyone in this standoff was breathing heavily and anticipating the next move. “Okay, Dr. Spencer. I see exactly how it is. You’re absolutely right,” said one of the orderlies. “I do have to go through you!” In one swift motion, both orderlies zapped Dr. Spencer with their taser lances, sending her convulsing to the floor with blood trickling out of her nose.

Glenn shouted, “No!” and huddled over the fallen doctor, drenching her in tears and snot. The two buff orderlies grabbed him by the arms and roughly dragged him out of the cell screaming, “No!” and “I want presents!”

“Merry Christmas, asshole!” screamed one of the orderlies before Kate heard another zapping noise. The sounds of Glenn’s painful cries were drowned out by the doctor’s own fading into blackness. The last thing she heard was a weakened and raspy version of, “I want presents.” Her black vision was wet with waterfall tears once again. Where would she go from here? Would she get her own padded cell? Would she be fired? Was there a chance to sue this hospital? Whatever the case would have been, Kate knew even in unconsciousness that it was too late to save Glenn Robertson.

“I want presents….I want presents…I want presents….” she said to herself.