The Smelly Truth or Don’t get Trapped in the Toilet ©
By
Michael Casey
I set my reader an essay topic, and he/she/it still hasn’t finished it, I said it should only take an hour. It’s 21.18 now on Tuesday 1st September 2020, and I’ll see if I take an hour, or was it just a load of hot and smelly air from me. I was once on the train Paris to Calais and I got trapped in the toilet, now that was a misadventure, but let’s not talk about that. Here is the embellished true account from Saturday a few days ago.
So I was in the toilet only the catch broke on the door and I was trapped inside. So I screamed for help and barged the door, I am 115 kilos and maybe a bit more, so I can really barge. Though my arthritic left shoulder was playing up, as usual, you can hear it click a lot in fact. So I couldn’t barge as much as I wanted. The door refused to budge. So I screamed again, not au secours au secours je suis trappe dedans, as I had screamed in French on the train back in 1984. Finally I heard my small daughter laughing, but you live in the toilet dad, why not stay there, as she busied herself making her breakfast.
Then I barked orders about finding my tools and how she break the door open for me. Her bigger sister, laughed evem more, and ignored me. She had to go watch her best friend go have a tattoo put on her rib cage in Arabic, saying It is Written. Why a beautiful Indian girl would want such a tattoo I’ll never understand. Only her husband would see it. People used to have tattoos in Chinese too. I used to say the tattoos said “this way up” in Chinese, the tattoo artist is a tattooist not a linguist. My eldest brother is a bit of a linguist, don’t go making your own jokes up, anyway perhaps being a linguist he should also have a tattoo parlour, at least the spellings would be correct.
So my big daughter went to hold hands whiles her Indian friend was marked for life, in Arabic. My small daughter has a leisurely breakfast ,while I sat it out in the cold toilet. She did pass my jumper through the window to me, while I sat it out, on the toilet. Then she found my small tools, only they were not the ones I needed to breakout. After much direction though the jammed door and window my small daughter finally found my big tools. Then I told her what to do. Obviously she couldn’t help me escape my own sweet smelling prison cell. So I asked her to find my phone, which was here on my desk where I’m speaking from, so I had to phone a friend who I knew would help. I had suggested she knock on a neighbour’s door, but she declined the idea. So a good friend in my hour of need was needed to help me.
The friend, a lady I know for many a year, who has a heart of gold would surely help. Only she was about to get into the shower in her own home as my plea for mercy arrived. So now it was up to my Ninja friend to hurry to my rescue. She had not even brushed her teeth that morning, but yet she came to my aid. A friend like that is worth having. So throwing on some clothes she went next to her phone to find an odd job man who’d batter down my toilet door. Only he was off out somewhere, but necessity is the mother of invention. She went to a neighbour and said “I need a man”, they were startled it was so very early in the morning after all, who did she think she was? Annie Lennox? The man of the house was out, but a brother was visiting. He’ll do said my saviour. She had the look of desperation about her. So grabbing the man and a hammer and large screwdriver, no not some cocktail in a bar, a real screwdriver. She took him to her car.
Minutes later the man arrived at our house and was let in by my laughing small daughter. He was jostled to the toilet by my saviour, then in sign language he was told what to do, I forgot to tell you he does not speak English. I was very relieved to say I was out very quickly, after a bit of banging on the side. I praised the man and he ran away from me and my toilet, was it the smell? As he left I grabbed all the Bud that was stacked up on the side of the kitchen and gave a bag full of beer as a reward, my saviour followed him out.
She drove him back home and he entered his sister’s house wondering was this some crazy English custom, like First Footing. My saviour said she give him £10 on my behalf as well, after she showered and brushed her teeth and combed her hair. She was a Lady, but by coming to my rescue she looked more like me on a very bad day. Clean and tidy she proffered the £10, obviously they did not want anything, they were very good neighbours after all. Though all his family were laughing, Bud beer and entertainment on a British August Bank Holiday weekend. As for me I wrapped the toilet door in masking tape, I’d never get trapped in any toilet again, third time lucky my backside.
It’s 21.59pm now, so 41mins to write this, come on students you can match me, in writing, avoid getting stuck in toilets.
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