It’s damn near dusk on a weeknight, nine hours of class and work powered through, Randy gives a call on the ‘ol mobile and proposes a nice little jog for ‘ol times sake. I happily oblige, and pick out the popular local trail. I can’t run on an empty stomach so I down a water bottle and a handful of beef jerky for good measure beforehand. I drive us over and we lace up and begin our lovely little prance down the initial straightaway, goin at a steady trot-waddle. As we see and pass each half mile marker the sky gets darker and darker and we get further and further from the bathroom at the start. The days worth of liquid consumption was starting to catch up to me and my piss gun was rather loaded… It was damn near black out, and aside from the possible presence of mountain lions, rattle snakes, and deranged serial killers lurking in the vast brush that surrounded us, Randy and I were pretty much alone. I paused from my vigorous running to drain my lizard right there on the side of the trail, allowing mother earth to reclaim my urine.. Now keep in mind I was wearing a somewhat long wife beater and gym shorts throughout this little run.. As I let my peck flop out and great the night sky, going into auto pilot and not using my hands (a skill I have perfected over the years), I let it flow.. What I did then was something senior citizens fear and toddlers take for granted, I did not hear the satisfying echo effect of my piss juice hitting the gravel, nor the dirt. No, what I felt was more of a warm damp sensation slowly spreading across the bottom of my shirt, and ya know once you start you cant stop, so I pretty much stripped away all hope for that shirt ever being white again, not to mention cover myself in my own piss throughout the process. Yeh so the run back to the car was a damp one, Randy almost choked on his tongue laughing, I hope no one important reads this post, but I jus feel everyone else should know that I pissed myself. kthxbye. R.I.P. shirt.