Friday, January 6, 2017

Odd Amounts of Modesty

When you find this, tell my mother she was wrong.  This tale is like a fiery star emerging from a black hole, only to fizzle and explode into a million useless pieces.  Just thinking about my predicament brings my pulse to such an elevated excitement that it feels as if my heart will claw its way out of my chest and end my anguish early.

The excitement wells up like a clogged toilet, with anxiety that comes about every time I realize the truth of my situation.  Every element has been experienced in an exact embodiment of its utmost essence.  Like the glorious prank crafted by that sly Serpent in the Garden, I have stumbled upon the forbidden tree, and now, having bitten the bitter fruit, am doomed to my own demise.  Which brings me to how this all came about.  You see, these words aren’t without meaning.  I am here for a reason.  My story starts on the toilet, one cold, snowy day, in the middle of December.

My day started with diabolical revenge in mind.  I had locked myself in the only bathroom of my apartment.  My roommate was still sleeping, so I stared into the mirror to reveal a disheveled version of who I thought I was.  Having not shaved for several days, stubble covered the lower half of my face.  I popped a glorious zit on my chin.  Draining it of its life, I made a mental note to cut back on the greasy food.

Last night was a good example of how my healthy choices had recently declined. I spent a large majority of the night finishing off a steaming pile of supreme nachos with Taco Pete’s famous Bomb Burrito for desert.  The oozing goodness of the feast was still fresh in my mind, but I rubbed my still protruding belly and moaned as it rumbled an angry retort to last night’s indulgence.  With eyes still groggy from the night before, I washed my face with a fresh blast of ice-cold water and prepared for my upcoming monologue.

I heard my roommate stirring, and knew that he would have to use the bathroom soon.  I was ready.  After checking the lock, I smirked at my reflection to revel in my subtle villainy.  It was a cruel thing to do, occupying the room for no real reason, but he asked for it.  During dinner the night before, he had loaded my nachos with Taco Pete’s flaming hot sauce when I wasn’t looking.  I spent a good twenty minutes chugging milk to escape the scorching heat of a thousand suns.  It probably didn’t help that I ate like a garbage disposal, shoveling in globs of meaty chips and cheese at a sickening pace, but, all the same, payback was a necessary evil.

The time had come.  He knocked on the door and asked if I was almost finished.  I conjured up a fiendishly evil laugh and spewed my speech from my fortress.  In the end, I suggested he take a ticket, for I was about to occupy this throne all day.  There was a silent pause while the gears in his brain processed what had just occurred.  When he finally realized that I was the roadblock which made his bladder tremble, he pounded on the door furiously.

“Is this because of last night?” he demanded.  “You know I was just screwing around with you.  If anything, it was payback for the toothpaste filled Oreos you gave me last week!  This isn’t cool, man!  I gotta go!” he whined.

The Oreos had been a clever prank, but not as clever as this one.  He was weak and I knew I held the upper hand, so I slyly added, “Slip me one hundred bucks under the door and I’ll open it.”

He had to give in.  There was nowhere else to go for at least a mile.  He had no car and it was the middle of winter.  All our neighbors had gone home for winter break and I held both apartment keys in my pocket.  To go outside would lock him out, thus furthering the torture I had intended.

With a shattering slam, he punched and shook the door in a wild furry.  The door held up, though, and I knew the money would soon be mine.  After a moment, it was quiet, and all that was heard was the once again rumbling of my lower intestine—at least I was in the right place to satisfy its demand.

I had anticipated being in the bathroom for quite a while, so I sat down and opened up the morning paper.  There was an article on the front page about a man getting trapped inside his car on the highway and nearly freezing to death.  They said that he survived for two days on moldy French fries that he had found underneath his car seat.  Some people just don’t come prepared, I thought.

“Hey bud, how ya doin out there?” I called in a sarcastic tone.  No answer.  I tried again, but he still didn’t respond.  “Hey man, ya out there?  It sure is nice in here,” I crooned.  “A hundred bucks is a cheap admission for what’s at stake.”  I know I’m a bit malevolent, but ‘tis the price one pays when rooming with an evil genius.  Let’s face it, I am a genius.  Mother always said my wits and my modesty were my best attributes.

Eventually, I grew bored of the game and reached for the toilet paper.  All at once, my evil plan came into a glaringly sharp focus.  With the dawning realization that I had locked myself into a bathroom with no t.p., I let out a slow curse.  I was to be defeated by my own carelessness and all before my plan came to true fruition.  I called out, “Hey! You win!  I’ve got no toilet paper in here.  Mind grabbing me a spare role?”  I listened, but all that responded was an eerie silence.  I yelled, “Mike! Ya out there?”  Again, nothing.

Panic started to set in as I realized that I was about to make the awkward waddle to the hallway closet with no help from my good-for-nothing roommate.  As I positioned myself to get up, I made a mental note to never be so careless again.  After unlocking the door, I went to push it open and found that it hardly moved.  I pushed harder and still it didn’t budge.  It couldn’t have been stuck in the doorframe, because the handle turned and I was able to open it a little.  Then, it dawned on me.  Mike had leaned a chair under the outside doorknob to prevent me from leaving the bathroom.  I began to sweat and called again, “Mike! You win, man! I’m sorry.  Please let me out.  It’s an emergency.”

There was still no response as my mind began to collapse in upon itself in sheer rage and frustration.  How could I have been so careless?  I then remembered that Mike’s parents were picking him up that morning to take him home for Winter break.  He wouldn’t be back for a week!

True terror set in as I screamed for someone to help me, even though I knew deep down inside that there was no one left in the building.  My mind flashed back to the headline story of the newspaper.  The man and his story now seemed like a situation much to be desired.  It’s amazing how quickly our perception of reality can change.  At least he had some moldy fries, when all I had was the Bomb.

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