I'm thinking I might take this in two directions.
1. A what-happened-next for Carl. Back at home in the immediate aftermath; Manager Irene's return to the office; Norman(!); The next day!
2. Pauline telling husband Ryan and Ryan's own story.
Graduate Carl's Nightmare Induction
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Lee
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Brian
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Re: Graduate Carl's Nightmare Induction
Yes, those are both key follow-ups, aren't they? I guess everyone who's read your story wants to know both what happened to Carl next and how Ryan managed to wet his pants on a bus during his Croatia honeymoon. It's a dilemma which to do first, I guess ... unless you are intending to incorporate both strands in the same piece. I'm sure you'll handle it brilliantly as you always do.
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Fred
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Re: Graduate Carl's Nightmare Induction
It's proof of a good story when we need follow-ups! Of course I'd like hear more about Ryan, but the fellow that intrigues me is Norman! I suspect he has a lot of secrets. 
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burstingguys
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Re: Graduate Carl's Nightmare Induction
I'm with Fred on being very keen to hear more about Norman's prior experiences as "gatekeeper to relief"...
"I gotta get in there man!"
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Lee
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Re: Graduate Carl's Nightmare Induction
Glancing furtively behind him to make sure that Maureen had driven away following their tortuous car journey, Carl fumbled for his door keys, extracting them from the sodden pocket of his bagged and rolled-up trousers. His hand was trembling slightly as he went to insert them in the lock, thankful beyond belief that on-one should be at home. Both of his parents would be working until early evening and his brother probably wouldn’t get home until the very late evening.
As he opened the front door he could instantly sense that there was someone inside the house and almost before he could recognise the coat laying on the telephone stall, a voice called out “Is that you, Sam?” (Carl’s dad). ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ cursed Carl silently, ‘please no, this can’t be happening’ but almost instantaneously, an elderly lady appeared at the end of the hallway.
“No, it’s me, Nan” replied Carl, his voice wracked with absolute horror. His grandmother occasionally came over whilst the family were at work and indulged in her passionate pastime of cooking, meaning that everyone arrived home to one of Nan’s wonderful dinners. Her presence on such occasions was always warmly welcome, but not today – by Carl anyway.
In a panic, he turned his back so as not to see his grandmother’s face but he also momentarily forgot that he was wearing the plastic yellow waterproof bottoms and no shoes. In all honesty, he looked ridiculous, with his lime green shirt simply adding to the ill-matching combination and so without even having the slightest clue as to what had occurred, his Nan said, “I wasn’t expecting you back, I thought you were working at that new job?” before adding, “Why are you dressed like…? I mean, what are you wearing?”
Carl’s fragile spirit was broken before he even had a chance to think of an excusable response, and he let both arms drop by his sides, clasping the ever-dampening paper bag in one hand and gripping his shoes in the other hand. There was simply no way out of this situation, no way at all. Not only could he not think what to say but whatever he did say would not let him escape from the clutches of his awful accident.
“Erm, Hello Nan!” he said, struggling to find the next words.
His Nan spoke again, “Whatever’s happened to you?” Her eyes flickered from her grandson’s embarrassed face to the soggy bag and his shoes – and those ludicrous fisherman-type trousers which barely reached his ankles, whilst she could also see that his socks looked wet.
Carl simply had no option other to try and swear his grandmother to secrecy.
“Look, please Nan, I’m begging you. Please, please don’t breathe a word of this anyone, please!”
The response was a confused, stony silence as he continued,
“You must promise me, swear to me, you won’t tell anyone about this. Please Nan!”
She still looked on, as if she was waiting for him to say the actual words.
“I’ve, erm… I’ve had… I had a bit of an accident, Nan – in my pants.”
Nan looked awkwardly, peering over the top of her glasses, “Oh Carl! You haven’t wet yourself, have you?”
The very phrase made his stomach flip. “Nan, I need you to do something for me? Please can you stick this in the washing-machine for me? It’s got to be done before mum or dad get home, please.”
As he passed her the brown bag, a small tear appeared in the wet paper and Car’s dark grey trousers began to emerge as the tear sliced open further. His Nan put the bag down on the nearby table, still surprised at what she was seeing, but Carl’s heart sank as she picked up the trousers by the waistband and began examining the label, “I wonder if these can be washed or whether they need dry-cleaning?”
“Nan, please!” whispered Carl. “Yes, yes, they’re alright to wash, can you just do it for me, please!”
But she wasn’t finished, “I hope the colour won’t run into these white pants?” she announced, “holding up her 22-year old grandson’s sodden briefs.”
Carl just wanted to crawl away and leave her to it as she added, “Anything else?” and he bent down and hooked off his socks one at a time, peeling them from his damp feet and giving them to his Nan who went on, “The last time I remember you doing something like this was when we went to see that circus at…”
Carl interrupted her embarrassing recollection, “I’m going to get showered and changed. I’ll stick my shirt in the normal wash-bin. But please Nan, you mustn’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
As he scurried up the stairs to the bathroom, his Nan called out, “What about those trousers you’re wearing?” But Carl ignored her words. He had no intention of getting the plastic waterproofs washed right now. How he was going to get them back to that damned Norman was another question.
But for now, all that he could think about was whether his Nan was going to be discreet…
Irene
It was just after midday when office manager Irene walked back into the building having returned from her meeting. As she entered the main doors she glanced along the corridor and wondered why there was a small plastic sheet and a yellow ‘Caution – Wet Floor’ sign bang in the middle, outside the toilet area.
Equally as puzzling was another smaller piece of plastic sheeting on the carpeted floor close to one of the unoccupied desks and she knew that something unusual had happened as she glanced into the small yard and saw Norman, outside in the sizzling hot sunshine and forcibly scrubbing the seat of one of the chairs. She could see the white cleaning foam frothing on the material as Norman rubbed at it furiously.
She immediately caught Katie in her eye-line and said, “What’s happened there? Has somebody spilled something? How did that happen?”
Katie said nothing and glanced at her colleagues for support but they all had their heads down working, or at least imitating working, as Irene added. “How’s the temp, Carl? Is he getting on okay? Where is he?”
Katie ushered Irene a few metres back into her office, realising she was going to have to deal with this along.
“Oh Irene, he wet himself! Maureen’s had to take him home.”
Irene just stared straight back, completely expressionless.
“It was awful Irene, so embarrassing. He asked me if he could go to the toilet when he first got here but Norman hadn’t unlocked them. I just assumed he’d gone a bit later but, oh yes, we had a fire evacuation, a false alarm, but when we got back in afterwards he went and sat back down at the desk and well, he did it sitting in his chair. He never said anything to anyone about wanting to go. Bev spotted it and just hit my arm and said ‘Oh My God, he’s weeing himself!’ and she pointed down and it was all running off his chair and down his trouser-legs. They managed to get him outside to the toilet but I think he mustn’t have been able to get there in time and he finished doing in his pants standing in the corridor. I’ve no idea why he didn’t ask anyone or try to go earlier, I presume he must be a bit shy but Irene, he didn’t half do a lot. He must have been bursting so badly.”
“Oh my goodness” replied a still-stunned Irene.
Katie could hardly get the story out quickly enough, “Unless he did go earlier and then just had to go again so soon after, we really don’t know but he definitely didn’t ask anyone as far as we know. Even when we were outside during the fire alarm I don’t think he wanted to go or at least he didn’t say. It was unbelievable when he wet himself though Irene, we could all see him doing it on the chair, you could see it running out of the bottom of the legs of his trousers, Norman’s had to try and clean up the puddle…”
“Alright, Katie” interrupted Irene. “What’s happened since? Have we told the agency what’s happened or do we know whether he’s coming back?”
Katie called Maureen into the office to ask if Carl had mentioned anything about coming back. “He never said a word, nothing. I didn’t really expect him to but I didn’t ask. I can’t imagine he’ll come back tomorrow after disgracing himself like that can you? But then again, he’s supposed to be here for six months and then maybe permanently, so who knows?”
“Is your car okay, after taking him back in that state?” asked Irene.
“Yes fine” replied Maureen, “Norman gave him some waterproof trousers to wear and he took his trousers and pants in a paper bag that Norman gave him…”
Irene frowned slightly, “Norman was involved?”
“Oh yes, he helped Carl a lot after he’d done it. I actually think Carl might have wet himself waiting for Norman to unlock the gents, although I’m not sure.”
Irene’s innermost thoughts immediately turned in another direction, ‘Not Norman, surely not again!’
As he opened the front door he could instantly sense that there was someone inside the house and almost before he could recognise the coat laying on the telephone stall, a voice called out “Is that you, Sam?” (Carl’s dad). ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ cursed Carl silently, ‘please no, this can’t be happening’ but almost instantaneously, an elderly lady appeared at the end of the hallway.
“No, it’s me, Nan” replied Carl, his voice wracked with absolute horror. His grandmother occasionally came over whilst the family were at work and indulged in her passionate pastime of cooking, meaning that everyone arrived home to one of Nan’s wonderful dinners. Her presence on such occasions was always warmly welcome, but not today – by Carl anyway.
In a panic, he turned his back so as not to see his grandmother’s face but he also momentarily forgot that he was wearing the plastic yellow waterproof bottoms and no shoes. In all honesty, he looked ridiculous, with his lime green shirt simply adding to the ill-matching combination and so without even having the slightest clue as to what had occurred, his Nan said, “I wasn’t expecting you back, I thought you were working at that new job?” before adding, “Why are you dressed like…? I mean, what are you wearing?”
Carl’s fragile spirit was broken before he even had a chance to think of an excusable response, and he let both arms drop by his sides, clasping the ever-dampening paper bag in one hand and gripping his shoes in the other hand. There was simply no way out of this situation, no way at all. Not only could he not think what to say but whatever he did say would not let him escape from the clutches of his awful accident.
“Erm, Hello Nan!” he said, struggling to find the next words.
His Nan spoke again, “Whatever’s happened to you?” Her eyes flickered from her grandson’s embarrassed face to the soggy bag and his shoes – and those ludicrous fisherman-type trousers which barely reached his ankles, whilst she could also see that his socks looked wet.
Carl simply had no option other to try and swear his grandmother to secrecy.
“Look, please Nan, I’m begging you. Please, please don’t breathe a word of this anyone, please!”
The response was a confused, stony silence as he continued,
“You must promise me, swear to me, you won’t tell anyone about this. Please Nan!”
She still looked on, as if she was waiting for him to say the actual words.
“I’ve, erm… I’ve had… I had a bit of an accident, Nan – in my pants.”
Nan looked awkwardly, peering over the top of her glasses, “Oh Carl! You haven’t wet yourself, have you?”
The very phrase made his stomach flip. “Nan, I need you to do something for me? Please can you stick this in the washing-machine for me? It’s got to be done before mum or dad get home, please.”
As he passed her the brown bag, a small tear appeared in the wet paper and Car’s dark grey trousers began to emerge as the tear sliced open further. His Nan put the bag down on the nearby table, still surprised at what she was seeing, but Carl’s heart sank as she picked up the trousers by the waistband and began examining the label, “I wonder if these can be washed or whether they need dry-cleaning?”
“Nan, please!” whispered Carl. “Yes, yes, they’re alright to wash, can you just do it for me, please!”
But she wasn’t finished, “I hope the colour won’t run into these white pants?” she announced, “holding up her 22-year old grandson’s sodden briefs.”
Carl just wanted to crawl away and leave her to it as she added, “Anything else?” and he bent down and hooked off his socks one at a time, peeling them from his damp feet and giving them to his Nan who went on, “The last time I remember you doing something like this was when we went to see that circus at…”
Carl interrupted her embarrassing recollection, “I’m going to get showered and changed. I’ll stick my shirt in the normal wash-bin. But please Nan, you mustn’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
As he scurried up the stairs to the bathroom, his Nan called out, “What about those trousers you’re wearing?” But Carl ignored her words. He had no intention of getting the plastic waterproofs washed right now. How he was going to get them back to that damned Norman was another question.
But for now, all that he could think about was whether his Nan was going to be discreet…
Irene
It was just after midday when office manager Irene walked back into the building having returned from her meeting. As she entered the main doors she glanced along the corridor and wondered why there was a small plastic sheet and a yellow ‘Caution – Wet Floor’ sign bang in the middle, outside the toilet area.
Equally as puzzling was another smaller piece of plastic sheeting on the carpeted floor close to one of the unoccupied desks and she knew that something unusual had happened as she glanced into the small yard and saw Norman, outside in the sizzling hot sunshine and forcibly scrubbing the seat of one of the chairs. She could see the white cleaning foam frothing on the material as Norman rubbed at it furiously.
She immediately caught Katie in her eye-line and said, “What’s happened there? Has somebody spilled something? How did that happen?”
Katie said nothing and glanced at her colleagues for support but they all had their heads down working, or at least imitating working, as Irene added. “How’s the temp, Carl? Is he getting on okay? Where is he?”
Katie ushered Irene a few metres back into her office, realising she was going to have to deal with this along.
“Oh Irene, he wet himself! Maureen’s had to take him home.”
Irene just stared straight back, completely expressionless.
“It was awful Irene, so embarrassing. He asked me if he could go to the toilet when he first got here but Norman hadn’t unlocked them. I just assumed he’d gone a bit later but, oh yes, we had a fire evacuation, a false alarm, but when we got back in afterwards he went and sat back down at the desk and well, he did it sitting in his chair. He never said anything to anyone about wanting to go. Bev spotted it and just hit my arm and said ‘Oh My God, he’s weeing himself!’ and she pointed down and it was all running off his chair and down his trouser-legs. They managed to get him outside to the toilet but I think he mustn’t have been able to get there in time and he finished doing in his pants standing in the corridor. I’ve no idea why he didn’t ask anyone or try to go earlier, I presume he must be a bit shy but Irene, he didn’t half do a lot. He must have been bursting so badly.”
“Oh my goodness” replied a still-stunned Irene.
Katie could hardly get the story out quickly enough, “Unless he did go earlier and then just had to go again so soon after, we really don’t know but he definitely didn’t ask anyone as far as we know. Even when we were outside during the fire alarm I don’t think he wanted to go or at least he didn’t say. It was unbelievable when he wet himself though Irene, we could all see him doing it on the chair, you could see it running out of the bottom of the legs of his trousers, Norman’s had to try and clean up the puddle…”
“Alright, Katie” interrupted Irene. “What’s happened since? Have we told the agency what’s happened or do we know whether he’s coming back?”
Katie called Maureen into the office to ask if Carl had mentioned anything about coming back. “He never said a word, nothing. I didn’t really expect him to but I didn’t ask. I can’t imagine he’ll come back tomorrow after disgracing himself like that can you? But then again, he’s supposed to be here for six months and then maybe permanently, so who knows?”
“Is your car okay, after taking him back in that state?” asked Irene.
“Yes fine” replied Maureen, “Norman gave him some waterproof trousers to wear and he took his trousers and pants in a paper bag that Norman gave him…”
Irene frowned slightly, “Norman was involved?”
“Oh yes, he helped Carl a lot after he’d done it. I actually think Carl might have wet himself waiting for Norman to unlock the gents, although I’m not sure.”
Irene’s innermost thoughts immediately turned in another direction, ‘Not Norman, surely not again!’
Last edited by Lee on 30 Aug 2017, 15:35, edited 1 time in total.
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Brian
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Re: Graduate Carl's Nightmare Induction
I've never before read anything quite like the descriptions of the awful soggy mess Carl made of himself and the office floor and furniture, together with the reactions of all the different people who witnessed it. Good thing the caretaker Norman doesn't seem to mind the extra work...
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Lee
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Re: Graduate Carl's Nightmare Induction
I quite amused myself writing that section - about just how far from the actual truth their perception of what happened is from the girls in the office. He didn't ask, too shy to say he need to go, didn't say anything, nobody else knew, etc.Brian wrote: ↑30 Aug 2017, 13:56 I've never before read anything quite like the descriptions of the awful soggy mess Carl made of himself and the office floor and furniture, together with the reactions of all the different people who witnessed it. Good thing the caretaker Norman doesn't seem to mind the extra work...
It wasn't that Carl told the wrong people outside and tried the toilet door half a dozen times, of course!!
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Fred
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evergreen
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Re: Graduate Carl's Nightmare Induction
That was a wetting story to die for. Your descriptions are brilliant.
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Lee
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