TIME: End of the day
It is a hot, relaxing soak in the tub end of day ritual.
It's my "Calgon, take me away" moment when I pull myself together.
I'M NOT a shower kind of guy.
My few remaining muscles require vast unwinding time.
The crown of me head and the soles of me feet crave heat, Matey!
I'm one long, tall, goes-on- forever kind of soaker.
I don't really fit inside a bathtub.
At six feet four inches, I must bend, twist, curl, and adjust for maximum soakage.
There is a reason I'm telling you these details:
to maximize the horror of my horror story.
my true horror story.
A naked, relaxed, contorted, vulnerable, unsuspecting fully grown manly man confronted with a sudden terrifying event--for your information and enlightenment--has 3 quick choices available.
1. Notice something is wrong
2. Fixate on the nature and magnitude of the threat
3. Scream like a little girly man, splashing, thrashing, frantically struggling to escape the watery cage of doom.
Yes, I did poke my big toe in the faucet.
Why the hell not?
Yes, I did feel a slight tickling sensation. So what?
Sure, I popped my toe back out allowing a three-inch long cockroach to scramble out of the faucet INTO MY BATHWATER.
Are you getting the picture clear enough, friend?
As stated, I was settled into a twisty, relaxed jumble of arms, legs, and angles inside that bathtub. I was trapped with an F-ing monster cockroach; its hundreds of twitchy, odious legs SWIMMING TOWARD MY PRIVATE PARTS!
My panicked efforts to escape created a chaos of waves, currents, torrents--ALL OF the WHICH--launched that filthy creature TOWARD ME rather than away!
Imagine a python inside a mayonnaise jar trying to bolt from its captivity and you've got a clear idea of my plight.
My horrifying screams must have been heard in Waco.
Marion Crane, I feel your pain.
I am NOW a shower-kind-of-guy.
Escape time is vastly reduced!