Wednesday, May 02, 2007

This story is part of the roommate story countdown.

I have to fix my shower door. It's supposed to be glass and it's a garbage bag. There's no awesome story there. I didn't break it practicing the martial art I've taken up that relies heavily on backward flip-kicks, or by throwing into it a ravenous escaped zoo animal that was hunting me for food, or by telekinesis. I shut it to fast, it bounced wildly off the rubber safety stopper, one of the rollers jumped out the slot, it hung there for a moment to taunt me, and then fell in the tub shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces.

It was magnificent.

My first instinct was to punch in the other door to see it again. I held back and just stood there in wondrous glee, listening to the pings of tiny pieces of tempered glass snapping under pressure. Ques comes running in, flipping shit, which granted, it's his place, but it's not like I won't pay for it. It's about the finer things in life, man. Revel.