this is my dull life. this is my dull life on drugs. this is a haiku.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Busted Doors and Broken Spirits

I was walking to class a few days ago and as I passed an elementary school during recess, I had to stop and watch for a little bit. For anyone who hasn't done this before, let me just say that watching children frolic in their natural habitat is the most amusing thing ever. They're so freaking amusing! Now all I need in order to fully take part in this ever-popular pasttime is a trenchcoat and some delicious candy. I kid, I kid... but yeah, I know... it sounds kinda creepy. I figure that as long as I'm not 47 years old and mentally undressing them, this activity is considered socially allowable. It's gotta be at least ten times as entertaining as going to the zoo. Maybe 11.


And last night was ridiculous. For the first long while it was only me, Coleman and Andre playing poker and having a few drinks. I'll give you the quick run-down of the night:

Earlier in the evening, I cooked some left-over fish cakes because I didn't have much else to cook at the moment. We waited patiently for the half hour it took to cook them... then, when they were done, Coleman and I threw them out the door at the side of our neighbor's house. It seemed like a good, spontaneous idea at the time. It's OK -- They're students too, so I just know that when they came out of their house this morning and saw that fish cakes had been forcefully propelled onto the siding of their home, they completely understood.

Later on in the night Coleman, who had just finished using the bathroom, was attempting to make his lavatorial exit. But when he turned the doorknob something odd happened. Naturally, he assumed that rotating the doorknob would result in the regular outcome -- this is, the opening of the door, and his subsequent release from the lavatorial confines.

But hells no.

The knob turned. A crack was heard from within the door. The knob continued to turn -- Round and round, to no avail. I guess some critical element had snapped off, leaving Coleman trapped in the bathroom. He yelled for awhile, and when we eventually heard him above the music, we came to the rescue. The window was too small, making that escape route out of the question, so we decided that taking the doorknob off was the best way to go about this problem. The screws were on the inside, so somehow coleman got the knob off from his side, but for some reason the door still wouldn't budge! This called for drastic measures.

Andre told Coleman to move back from the door, took a few steps back, and just charged the thing. The press-board door splintered out of the locked and closed-tight position, pieces flying all over the bathroom.

So long-story-short: Coleman escaped. Door broken with a big crack through the middle. Andre happy to have had the chance to break through a door.

People ended up showing up later on, and we again hauled out the large storage container and rode it down the main stairs. I didn't get any pictures, but we had the front door open this time, so we'd go down the stairs, straight out the front door, over the landing, down the front steps and across the lawn. My ass was really sore the next morning.

And yeah, I lied about the whole "broken spirits" thing in the title. I just thought it sounded cool... but if you're really looking for some kind of broken spirit dealie... well... erm... Coleman stubbed his toe yesterday. Apparently it hurt quite a bit. Or so I hear.