If I shudder and lose control of my muscles and accidentally open things up right as the water shoots out, will the water be able to enter me? With what level of pressure does the water shoot out, and is the pressure variable? Am I able to dial down the pressure? At the highest possible pressure setting, how deep will the water be able to enter me, given a scenario in which I lose total control? What are the physics, the angles of deflection? What does our inner anatomical curvature do to water entering at its highest possible pressure setting? Once inside, does gravity remain constant for the water, or does the gravitational dynamic change in some way? Is the body capable of altering these kinds of fundamentals? If the water reaches very far inside me, what are the consequences? Are there things inside that are not meant to touch clean, rushing water? If the point is to ensure cleanliness, comfort, and sociability, where do we draw the line where this term “clean” no longer describes a healthy status-quo? Can what we mean by this term “clean” describe something unhealthy, even malevolent? Is there a possible effect on rates of cancer in men of my demographic? If you were given access, perhaps in a surgical setting with a small mounted camera, could you identify and photograph the point at which “clean” loses its meaning? Could you define this with any kind of precision? Because you must admit that beyond a certain physical threshold, what we consider “clean” “out here” becomes irrelevant, possibly even carcinogenic, given what we know about the importance of balancing the flora to maintain cancer-free lifestyles. In the scenario where I succumb to fear and lose ultimate control in the presence of rushing water, is there a chance that the water reaches too far inside and alters my critical flora’s ability to regulate my mood and metabolism? Does this purported value of “cleanliness” really mean anything at all if this kind of “cleaning” disturbs delicate balances that are expensive to maintain, resulting in increased mortality? Will repeated use disturb my moods via my flora and cause me to damage close personal relationships? If I die of cancer, what happens to my children? Does “in there” even give a—and I’m really sorry for this—but does it give a shit at all about what we value “out here”?

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Ethan Krajewski lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. His fiction has appeared in BRUISER. IG: ethankbaby