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Wednesday, 21 August 2013

Snippety Stuff - Toilet humor warning

The toilet humor warning is, I'm afraid, pretty literal. I have no idea where this is going to end up. A couple of months ago I wondered what would happen if someone opened the toilet door and found some sort of beastie already occupying it, and pleading for more loo roll. Pretty much everyone has ended up in that situation before, so it's a universal moment of desperation.

The usual warnings apply, although there's no strong language in this one. First draft (written on the phone this morning, actually), changes may happen. But if nothing else, I gave myself a good giggle during this morning's commute.


Thursday, 06:45.
Jason opened the door to the downstairs toilet, stared at what was already sitting there, and closed the door again. 
"I only had one beer last night," he muttered. 
He opened the door again.
It was still there.
"Honey?" Tabs called from the kitchen around the corner. "What are you doing?"
"Uh..." Halloween was still months away. And it had moved. "Erm."
"Jason!" She said from behind him. 
He squeaked and jumped. Tabs put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Why are you playing with that door?"
He looked at his wife, shrugged, and opened the door.
"Jason," Tabs said, after a moment's silence. "Why is there a zombie on our downstairs toilet?"
Jason considered this. He took in the mouldering skin, overlong fingernails, tattered clothing and clumpy hair. The beseeching gaze and outstretched, wizened claw holding a small cardboard tube. 
"I think … it … needs toilet paper?" He guessed.
The corpse perched on the pot nodded frantically.
"Cupboard in the hall," Tabs said, and elbowed him. "Get the poor thing a roll, Jason."

Jason grabbed a roll from the family pack, ran back to the toilet door where Tabs still stood, and gingerly extended it into the room. 
The zombie took it, inclined its head at them with thanks, and firmly closed the door.

Tabs and Jason stared at each other.
Behind the door, the toilet flushed. There was a sudden whistling noise. Then silence.
"Now what?" Tabs asked, glancing at the ceiling nervously. The kids would be down in just a few minutes.
Jason braced himself, and opened the door again.
Nothing. The toilet was empty, apart from the lingering stench of grateful zombie.

"Oh. Oh, that - that's really bad," Jason whispered.
"Air freshener in the hall cupboard," Tabs said, eyes watering.
Jason lurched over to the cupboard, gagging gently.
"Lavender or rose?" He asked.
Tabs closed her eyes. "Whichever one will make my toilet stop smelling like an ex-constipated zombie, honey." Because the alternative involved some sort of flame-thrower, and she didn't think they had one in the house.