Sometimes my pee smells like chicken soup

The cool night drifted into a cold morning. He woke up hungry, not sure where he was and needing to pee. The others snored on, oblivious of his consciousness, dreaming their own dreams. He decided to wait, at least for a while, to see if anyone else would move first.
A single sparrow broke the silence with a high pitched whistle. Summer was almost gone, but autumn still struggled to impose itself on its seasonal rival and could wait until its death throes were over. His bladder started screaming for attention, a spoilt child starting its supermarket tantrum and he knew it would only get worse. He slid a single leg from under the duvet. The air in the room was stale, the same air he'd been breathing all night, but something was wrong. As it caressed his leg he knew that something had happened in the room during the night. The knowledge was absolute and bore no argument. He slid his tired body from the bed and scampered to the bathroom, no longer caring who he disturbed.
The bathroom was dark and he fumbled for the twisted piece of string that would throw it piercing light over the bright white furnishing within. His hand swirled and twisted, trying to find the elusive cord, to no avail. He decided to take his chances in the dark and stepped forward. His foot thumped against a solid object on the floor. He stepped over, cursing whoever had left a wet pile of towels in the middle of the floor. A white ring shone before him, catching what little light was available to advertise its presence. He pulled at the gap in his shorts and fumbled inside. At last he was ready and started to release. The blessed release washed over him and the pain subsided. The tantrum had been averted this time, and he relaxed. He caught a faint whiff of something familiar. At last he placed it, "Chicken Soup" he muttered and collapsed in a pile on the floor.