The Amazing Misadventures of This and That

You know, like most people (excluding Alex), I enjoy a periodic romp through the water park in my bathroom. It gets me clean and it keeps me entertained for hours on end. At least until the hot water runs out. Then it goes from tea party to torture faster than you can say "aqueous."

Last night I wanted a shower. So I gathered up some fresh clothes, grabbed a towel, and skipped down the hall Wizard of Oz style until I reached the door to the bathroom. There, as I was about to burst in with reckless abandon, I heard a noise. It was the most inhuman, otherworldly moan I have ever heard coming from that corner of the house, and trust me when I say I've heard a few. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I tilted my head toward the door, listening for that sound again. It came, more urgent and awful than the last. It was like there was a raptor in the bathtub.

Nobody could have been in there. The light was off and the door was left slightly ajar. Peeking in through the crack to the mirror, I saw no silhouette of a person perched on the crapper, nor was there any movement from the direction of the shower. There was no way in hell it was a person those sounds came from.

The moan came again, echoing throughout the small room and chilling me to the bone. I decided I liked living, and fled the scene as quickly as I could. I flew down the hallway, descended the stairs, and leaped over the foyer straight into the living room. In retrospect I think I broke Alex's record for Running Through the House as Quickly as Possible While Shitting Pants, but I can't be sure. What I do know is that Alex was not happy to see me when I exploded into the room. It may have had something to do with the threesome going on, but once again I can't be sure.

After relaying my short, terrifying story, the blogger agreed to investigate the supposedly haunted bathroom. I waited, and it was not long before I heard Alex come crashing down the stairs as if attempting to outrun a pack of wild wolves. Face ashen and unable to find any words, the two befuddled lovers were ushered out of the house and the door locked. I knew that things were serious then.

We armed ourselves as best as we possibly could for the inevitable battle with the beyond. Alex was gripping a small aluminum bat in both hands, and I had chosen a flyswatter. We crept up the stairs as quietly as we could, and sneaked over to the offending door. All was quiet. We exchanged worried glances. We stood frozen outside the bathroom, waiting for that awful sound. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, it happened again. We knew the beast was still there.

I couldn't wait any longer. I kicked open the door and tossed on the lights, while Alex let out a shrill battle cry behind me. Nothing happened. I peered into the sink while my companion lifted the lid off the toilet. No monsters. Although the curtain was drawn back on the shower, we didn't see anything at first glance. It appeared as if we were alone.

But the sound came again, less urgent this time. It was definitely from the shower. I crept over, swatter held high, and peeked into the tub. What I saw I will remember until the end of my days.

It was Alex's cat. Alex's constipated cat. As we watched, it finally let loose. It left a big, honkin' steamer right there in the bathtub. It looked up at us with those loving brown eyes, gave a friendly mew, and popped out of the bathroom like business as usual. I went to bed that night without getting a shower.