Heroic (Although limited capacity!) Area Bladder Saves Town From Unnecessarily Large Monthly Water Bill

In a rare show of gallantry and civic-mindedness seldom seen from one of those unfortunate body parts that we would all just prefer not to think about in the first place, an area bladder was able to motivate its owner, Jethro Bodine, age 56, an area rancher, out of the deep confines of sleep for the 4th time in as many hours and somehow draw his attention to the fact that someone had left the sprinklers on in the park, although rain showers are indeed expected on Wednesday. "Well, there I was, dreaming that I had stumbled across a "Gunsmoke" lost episode marathon when I felt this all too familiar nagging sensation and had to get up and shuffle into the bathroom for about the millionth time that night" said the frustrated Jethro while gulping down coffee to remain even partially awake. "I mean, it is a plum miracle that I just don't collapse right here, for goodness sake - that is how long it has been since I got a good night's sleep! Oh, I have threatened that doggone thing about 100 times with those chilling words - 'what is good for the appendix can indeed be good for the bladder' (Jethro's unfortunate appendix was unceremoniously removed when he was only a 'wee lad' of 12 - although reasons for this bodily banishment are not in fact known. Blatant insubordination cannot be ruled out, however!), but I guess that is one internal organ that is not easily swayed by mere threats and intimidation, doggone it!" he said indignantly. "Anyway, as I tried to find that perfect balance between speed and a lack of jostling and sloshing on my now routine trip to the "Gents', I got a little carried away on the speed part and had to make a dramatic halt right in front of the window that looks out over the park. That is when I saw that those doggone sprinklers were left on again, pouring our tax dollars down the drain, for crying out loud. And I cannot help but feel that my bladder, in spite of all the abuse that I heap upon it (largely deserved, or so it would seem!), somehow orchestrated the whole darn thing out of some sort of misplaced sense of civic duty or environmental zeal or whatever! It kind of gave me the creeps, once I thought about it. Whoa, who is in charge here - me or some doggone internal organ that I can't even spell? I mean, come on! Anyway, although it was 3:30 in the morning, I quite naturally called that doggone Mayor and informed him of this little municipal oversight - although I left out the part about certain underachieving parts of my anatomy that have every chance of being possessed by the devil and/or that environmental 'do-gooder' Al Gore or whatever! So, I made that little sprinkler problem his problem - and that is how it should be!" he said smugly.

For his part, the Mayor was, at that exact instant, dreaming about re-instituting the death penalty at the municipal level (ironically, the parallels between the Mayor's dream and the doggone Spanish Inquisition were striking indeed! Whoa!) and was able, after turning off the water, to climb back into bed and fall back asleep within seconds, with no intervening trips to the restroom whatsoever, although he was directly exposed to that unsettling sound of running water and had to endure those rhythmic sprinkler noises that often send lesser men hopping on one leg to the nearest 'facilities' when exposed to those powerful late night stimuli to any degree.