A Funny Story

            Today’s post was actually inspired by Elie Wiesel’s brilliant novel, Dawn.

           

“I owe my life to a laugh” (35).

           

“I want to tell you a story,” he said, “a funny story” (80).

  
     Side note: There was some confusion as to who authored which parts of this piece. The quotations cited above are by Wiesel. From this point onward is all my own work. 

    It’s almost the end to another school year, the twilight of another grade, simply awaiting the dawn of a new semester. It’s time to juxtapose the doom and gloom feelings that cling to our bodies when we feel so close to summer break that we can almost taste it. I want to tell you a story, a funny story.

            This was actually told to me by Aunt about a friend of hers. Now for reasons, which will soon become obvious, I’m going to keep the heroine of the story anonymous. So let’s call her Jane.

            Here’s the dish on this girl, Jane, whom you have never met. She’s bright, perky, young, and fresh out of college and ready to conquer the world. Intro new protagonist also unbeknownst to you. For his and her sake, we’ll just call him John.

            Picture Jane and John, happy, bright, perky, young, and fresh into a new relationship. Things have been going relatively steady, so one night Jane spends the night at John’s home.

            She awakes the next morning, groggy and a bit dazed, to find John shaking her awake to inform her that he’s going to work. “Let yourself out,” he said, “don’t worry about locking the door; it does that automatically.” These were his only instructions.

            Jane sinks back into the deep comfort of sleep. When she finally comes to, she begins her morning routine in order to make her walk of shame back to her own abode just slightly more bearable. Unfortunately today’s routine had extra criteria in mind. When nature calls, Jane simply can’t let voicemail pick it up.

            So there Jane is, perched awkwardly atop John’s porcelain throne, admiring the cushion of snow that has been falling for some days now. She stands up, presses down the lever, and… nothing. Her last night “leftovers” stare back up, and stubbornly refuse to peacefully part ways through the sewer system.

            Jane attempts once again to wrestle the flush into submission, to no avail.

            Now what? She figures the only thing she can do at this point is find an evacuation route for her new little aquatic friend. Adjacent to the privy is a small window. Perhaps this is the emergency exit she’s looking for. Jane pushes open the window to an invasion of frigid air and swirling flakes. She looks down from John’s 3-story bachelor pad.

            Hmmm… a long fall from the launch site, untouched snow, right below a window? There are simply too many flaws in this plan. Window closed, Jane begins to pace, silently cursing her lingering amigo in the commode.

            A thought dawns, and she seeks a plastic bag in John’s apartment. We’ll skip over the gory details here. Somehow she manages to coax the little guy into the bag and lock him up.

            Now she goes back around to finishing her own preparations for departure and collecting her things to make the now even more shameful stroll back to her home.

            Everything together, she steps out into John’s hallway, relieved to have resolved the early morning catastrophe. Outside, the door halfway swung shut, from the corner of her eye, she spots on the table the plastic bag of goods. Or bads. Goods are probably not the right word to use in the current situation.

            I like to imagine this moment as one of those slow-mo scenes in a movie with the mouth opening wide and the prolonged “NOOOOOOO!”

            Click. Door shut. Bag on table.

            Furiously, she wrenches the handle in desperation. Unfortunately for Ms. Beeping Sleauty, she was too incoherent earlier in the morning to comprehend John’s warning about the auto-lock door.

            The bads left, sitting on the table like a misplaced Christmas present Santa forgot to stow away under the tree, she makes her leave.

            Needless to say, there was not another date. The message she left spoke loud enough for itself in John’s opinion.

            So what have we learned? Boys, always make sure your plumbing is in pristine condition. That’s my opinion on the matter.