2007-06-26
Close Proximity.
Two days of school re-opening, and quite a few stories to tell.
Fine, at least one, which I remember most vividly amidst the blur of events (considering the completely TRAUMATIZING effect it had on me, ahem), would be the story of the evil accomplice-toilet cubicle.
It was the first day of school. (Yes, the FIRST DAY, no less. Can you imagine my indignance?)
Right. The first day of school, while the students ploughed sleepily around, still a-moping on a holiday lost (to projects, CCA time, homework, and other miscellaneous insanities).
Meanwhile, my bladder had reached its maximum capacity, leading me to the gaping jaws, er, doors of the level two toilet.
And so I stepped in, completely unaware of my terrible fate, which would ensnare me in the stuffy confines of the second toilet cubicle along the row that faced the windows.
Foolish as I was, I did not allow myself a quick inspection of this lavatory in which I would most undoubtedly be vulnerable for a brief period of time. Alas, I had condemned myself to such a disaster.
So I walked in. I turned around. I locked the cubicle door. And rendered myself completely defenceless as I sat down on the, er, throne.
It took me awhile to notice. I presume it was when I had decided to kill a few more trees tear a strip of toilet paper.
So I turned to my right. Reached out. My eyes slipped a few inches. And I barely restrained a scream when-
I SAW IT.
DUN DUN DUN DUNNNN~!
And of course, I'll end off here. Nothing like a good old cliff hanger, is there?
(Oh darn, my evil grin's getting awfully hard to conceal now. I wonder why, nurhurhur.)
If you want to know what the heck it was, you can ask me and I will pretty gladly re-enact parts of the story for you. And end it of course. Hur.
After all, it falls upon me as my duty to warn the less informed of the horrors of space-constrained toilet cubicles.
abstracity at 7:56 p.m.