When I was twenty-two years old, something similar happened to me. It's kinda funny now.

Light filters thru the window and a glimmer hits a face. Feeling the warmth from the errant sun ray, the sleeper stirs and pulls a pillow to the side of his face. The errant sunshine moves to another spot and becomes more insistent, waking the sleeper from his REM state. Realizing that sleep has fled in the early morning light, the sleeper stirs and sits at the side of the bed. The momentary transition from horizontal to sitting overcome, the ex-sleeper rises and begins a new day. But before work, first things first.

'Uhg, I gotta pee.' rushes the thought process. Standing in front of the toilet, the ex-sleeper fumbles with the opening of his sleep wear and is soon rewarded by the sound of liquid hitting liquid as his bladder empties. Just as he finishes and begins to return his manhood back into it's preferred position, he feels his hand being covered with a white sticky substance.

Startled he says out loud "Damn, why does this have to happen now?" It's a rhetorical question as he doesn't want an answer. He looks around to see the extent of the splatters of white gooey junk and grabs a nearby washcloth to begin the cleanup. Still talking to himself, he says "Why me, why does this happen? Why can't I be like other guys and just be normal. It's not like I don't try."

He runs the hot water in the sink and rinses the cloth. Wringing out the excess water he resumes cleaning up the sticky mess. He cleans the top of the toilet and the sticky mess on the floor. "Glad I didn't step in it" he muses. "Seems like an awful lot. Wonder just how much there was, hmmm?"

Finally finished with the cleanup, he picks up the now battered and empty can of shaving cream and throws it in the waste swearing that he'll not buy another. He rubs his jaw and grins, so I don't have to shave. Oh, well.