It lurked in the corner. In plain sight, arrogantly waiting, huge and menacing. It lives to kill. To mutilate. To scare. A source of nightmares since the dawn of man. There is a flickering reflection of malice in all four of its eyes. Watching. Eight striped legs, each at least seven feet long, tense with anticipation. Every muscle on it’s hairy body on high alert to attack and devour the next victim.
There are two things Man does not like. Mornings. And people who like mornings. Man opens his eyes at 06h00 because he married for love and not for money. He has to work. It might be true that money can’t buy happiness but it helps with the mortgage payment and keeping a constant flow of wine in the house. Once he finds enough courage and stops crying, he gets up and slowly but surely develops a personality. It normally kicks in around 09h34 AM.
On Thursday morning Man went through the same monotonous tasks of changing from his wake-up face to something that would not scare children as much. In the process of getting into the shower, he saw it. The monster. Lurking in the corner, right next to the shower door. Without a flinch he dropped his pants and got in, knowing it is lurking within two feet from him. How does he do it? How can one man be so brave? Th real secret lies in his state of mind at the time. He was not fully awake, evident by the fact that he didn’t screech like a girl at a Justin Bieber concert. As soon as the first drops of water splashed over him he realized what was waiting for him outside the safety of the shower. It dawned on him, what if the monster decide to attack him during the process of washing his hair? I am not sure how other people do it but Man closes his eyes when he is lathering shampoo into his full head of greyish hair.
There is a substantial risk of not seeing the monster when your eyes are closed. The alternative is that if you decide to leave your eyes open, you might end up with soap that will burn like a motherfucker and blind you for three days. Blindness also prevents you from seeing an attacker. Man was in a soapy situation. He opted out of washing his hair. He washed the rest of his body without taking his eyes from the bottom corner. It took him a full seventeen seconds. Seventeen seconds that felt like seventeen decades. What made it worse was his amazing imagination where he could actually feel the hairy legs of the monster climbing up his own hairy leg, right up into his personal space.
On eighteen seconds, he jumped out of the shower and grabbed a towel because you cannot get into a fight naked. Unless you are an agent fighting Russian spies but even then, it must be kinda awkward. Some things will always be in the way. The good news was the monster didn’t move.
He got dressed at the speed of a guy who wakes up in the arms of a person who is proof that alcohol can seriously impair a person’s judgement of beauty. Fully clothed, Man was almost ready to deal with the situation. I say almost. He had three options. (1) Leave the monster, lock the house and emigrate to another country. (2) Ignore the monster and let Wife deal with. (3) Kill it. The first option would not work because we need a Visa to visit most foreign countries because our country is fucking amazing. Option two meant Man will have to get a divorce lawyer and he doesn’t know any. Option three was the shittest but only option. He is Man after all. He looked around the bathroom for the perfect weapon. He moved with the stealth of a cat who is 10 kg overweight and grabbed a shoe. He took a deep breath, leapt forward with the grace of a frightened gazelle and slammed that motherfucker into four pieces against the floor. The muck and juice splashed across Man’s newly washed face and stuck to the three day stubble. (I wish.) He wiped it clean with the back of his hand. And laughed and laughed and laughed. He felt proud and manly enough to do a little victory dance.
Then he scraped the mashed up left overs from the shoe and flushed it down the toilet like the hero he is. A shiver ran down his spine when he looked backed and saw three severed legs still lying in the corner, the leftovers of the massacre. He decided to leave it there for Wife to find.