Last week was quite busy. I had software training all last week that took 50% of my time away from my computer. I’m still trying to get Mermaid Story all macro’d, which consists of objectively examining each problem word and phrase (adverbs, cliches, etc.) and evaluating whether they stay or go. Tedious work, and time-consuming if it’s for a 90,000 page manuscript. So I’ll leave you with this thought I had this morning.
The little mermaid must have wet her pants at some point.
Well, think about it. Mermaids likely don’t have a bathroom. The world is their toilet. Their bodily waste simply floats away. I doubt they do it in mixed company, they probably go somewhere behind the seaweed, pinch a sea cucumber, but then they move on with their business. It doesn’t collect in a stagnant smelly puddle in the corner. The ocean is self-cleaning. And there’s no way any mermaid could have observed the land-dwellers waste-removal customs from their limited vantage point. Sunken ships wouldn’t give any archaeological information (they used buckets), and do you trust Scuttle to know how a privy works?
Ariel would have no knowledge of what a toilet was, where it was, or how to use it. Giving the benefit of the doubt, she must have intuited that there was some place for doing such business, since liquids fall down in this aerated environment. But without a way to communicate her need, she wouldn’t have any options other than to let it flow. The fact that she was unfamiliar with her human body likely didn’t help matters.
So imagine her standing in the middle of a royal hallway or sitting down to dinner. A dark spot slowly spreads across her crotch. Or if she’s in a dress, a dribble of liquid falls between her legs. Prince Eric’s eyes must have bulged out of their sockets, watching this girl who he thinks might be the love of his life piss herself in the middle of his living room. No wonder he treated her like a pet/child in the fairy tale.
These are the things I think about.