The worst place I could possibly be when I hear a gun shot, taking a piss. I could have been down there, in the middle of the action. I could have stopped the gunman after they did it. I could have dived in front of that bullet. But, no, I'm standing here in front of 80 lbs of porcelain, and I jump and hit the bowl mid-stream.
Immediately I think to myself. Oh god, I hope it didn't hit Kathryn. I know it's aweful to only think of my girlfriend, but in my defense, I only met her family forty-five minutes ago. Of all the weekends I pick to propose to her, I pick this one. It was bad enough that this is the first time the hopefully future in laws, but the shot. That really is going to put a damper in my plans.
I don't bother to clean up, and I pray that doesn't come back to bite me in the ass. With all that I assume is happening, i think a piss mark on the toilet seat is the least of their concerns. Plus, i can always blame it on somebody else.
I head downstairs, after what I can only assume has been three hours, but realistically is only a minute, and the first think i notice is the back of Kathryn's head. Cries, gasps, sirens, they all get fainter. By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs everybody is gone, and I wonder how all of that could seemingly happen so quickly....
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