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// Chapter 7: Screwloose and the Philosopher's Throne 
// Story: And They Call It Puppy Love 
// by kudzuhaiku 
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	It was the second morning without medication. She had stared long and hard at the plastic bottles on her bedside table. Her internal dialogue was short and brief. And now, she was continuing with her day, sans medication. She felt oddly calm, much more so than usual, but she also felt oddly agitated. Her mind felt unusually active. Thoughts buzzed through her brain about the night before. It had been a wonderful night. 

Screwloose looked back upon the toilet she was straddling and pondered the nature of her throne. Pony toilets were very different than say, a minotaur’s toilet or or the odd squat holes in the floor favoured in Saddle Arabia. She had a book about toilets. So many different types of toilets. Pony toilets were long and somewhat egg shaped, so they could be straddled as you planted your backside over them, legs wide, tail up. Most toilets even came with a special tail catch, so your tail wouldn’t flop into the toilet water and end up soiled. Yuck. The bowl had to be elongated for colts and stallions and their different anatomy. Urine came from a different area on male ponies. Very expensive toilets had a shelf to rest your barrel on, so you didn’t have to stand on your front legs. Screwloose lamented the lack of a shelf. She grunted and strained for a moment, feeling a sting in a delicate place just under her dock, and was rewarded with a plop in the water. Too much macaroni and cheese the night before. Her current leavings had grunt rings around them, no doubt. Toilets fascinated her. One of her earliest memories she had after being found was the embarrassing memory of drinking out the toilet in her room in the asylum, and being caught doing it. There had been a rather painful explanation about modern plumbing and a stern lesson in not drinking out of the toilet. Since then, she had been fascinated, almost obsessed with toilets. She had a book about toilets, wrote secret poetry in a well hidden notebook about toilets, and often thought about toilets when she had nothing else to think about. For Screwloose, toilets represented an odd dichotomy. On one hoof, toilets were sanitary and removed waste quickly and efficiently. On the other hoof, toilets were wasteful, flushing away precious water, and you did your business in fresh drinkable water that was oh so easily taken for granted. Nopony ever stopped to think about all of the poor souls in the world dying from thirst in the deserts, the scarcity of water in places like the Sea of Grass where the zebras lived, and the value of water in Saddle Arabia, which was worth more than any precious metal. And with each flush, Screwloose flushed away a fortune. It was utterly mad behaviour, the very definition of insanity, or so Screwloose thought. She flexed her plot, trying to relax back there, gritting her teeth and straining, struggling to befoul a fortune in fresh water. A loud note of flatulence echoed through the tiled bathroom. What did Screwloose know about what was sane or insane? Screwloose was considered crazy. So she had joined society in the befoulment of their precious and finite resource, one more mad pony amidst so many other mad ponies, all of them soiling something precious and life giving, a majority of them never thinking twice about it… Because that would be mad. 

“You all right in there?” 

Mint Jewelup’s voice snapped her out of her deep thoughts about toilets. She cleared her throat, her nostrils flaring. She had mixed feelings about the scent of her own brand. 

“Everything coming out okay?” Mint asked shamelessly, a faint giggle in her voice. 

“Macaroni and cheese with a cheesecake dessert was a bad idea.” Screwloose shouted. There was another embarrassing blast that echoed off the tiles. 

“Well hurry up.” Mint shouted. “Other ponies have to go as well. I’m dancing out here!” 

“There is a lesson you must remember, a fact as sure as fate. Some things cannot be hurried…” Screwloose said. 

“And some things that cannot wait!” Mint Jewelup finished, having heard this a thousand times or more. Screwloose was predictable at times. 

There was a click as the door opened and Mint came bursting in. “So sorry!” Mint said, grinning sheepishly. She shoved her way in and planted her backside over the tub. In a moment, there was the sound of urine streaming. The look on Mint’s face was one of bliss. 

Screwloose crinkled her nose at her roommate. 

“Ahh that feels so good.” Mint cried in orgasmic tones. 

“This is awkward.” Screwloose said, looking up and counting tiles on the ceiling. 

“No, awkward would be me kissing you on the way out.” Mint said. “Or making eye contact and not looking away.” 

“Is this what being friends means?” Screwloose said, her tone serious. “Nothing to hide, everything open, no secrets?” 

“Maybe.” Mint Jewelup replied, still streaming. 

“Minty, you have a milk jug for a bladder.” Screwloose said, still trying to look at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, I know.” Mint Jewelup replied. 

“I wonder why this is awkward behaviour.” Screwloose said, thinking aloud. “At what point did we stop urinating wherever and whenever and started urinating behind closed doors, and which point did it become a social taboo. I mean most of us are naked. Most of us don’t usually wear clothing. We see each others intimate areas and most of us never stop to think about it, but when pee comes out, suddenly, we feel self conscious and we fall prey to a need for privacy. We must hide our intimate places in a secluded room for the urination ritual. Or whatever pressing need we have.” She punctuated her thoughts with a loud plop in the water, causing Mint to flinch and flick her ears. 

Mint Jewelup was suddenly very self conscious about the sound of her own urine streaming down, splattering into the tub. “Screwloose?” 

“Yeah Minty?” 

“You are remarkably lucid sometimes, you know that?” Mint said, squirming internally while thinking about what Screwloose had said. At last, the urine stream had ended. A few drops trickled out, and she gave her backside a shake. 

Mint Jewelup rinsed out the tub and then hurried out of the bathroom, pausing only to plant an awkward kiss on her roommate’s muzzle, leaving Screwloose alone with her thoughts and an odd feeling of frustration. 

Screwloose blushed a painfully burning blush and felt thankful that her mind wasn’t constipated like her backside was. As she straddled her throne, the thoughts continued to flow.