The architect had clearly lacked any knowledge as to how to build a house. As all sensible people know, the primary bathroom must be connected and adjacent to the primary bedroom. However, someone had the bright idea to put it down the hall to make room for an extra-large closet, a bonus laundry room, and a built-in sauna that didn’t even work. This inevitably resulted in Ben and his wife making excursions in the dead of night when they needed to relieve themselves.
Ben glared sizzling holes into the ceiling as he faced the grim prospect of such a journey tonight. He took a deep breath, trying to absorb courage through the air. Regardless of courage, the journey must be made. If courage would not see him through, then desperation would.
“Ben swept out of bed and glided across the floor on velvet toes, dodging creaky boards laid out in a minefield. He slipped past the door into the hall. Moonlight bathed the passageway. Drifting particles of dust danced like snowflakes, shimmering as they fluttered down to earth. He ghosted between them, careful not to disturb their ballet,” Ben narrated to the enraptured dust mites as he slowly padded to the bathroom door.
Was Ben the type of man to narrate his movements as he walked down a hallway in the wee hours of the morning? Yes. “Why?” you might ask. Well, technically speaking, it’s because he enjoyed it. Because a small fragment of his inner child still remained.
That’s what separated him from the common rabble. Sure, setting traps under the beds, in the closets, and in the cupboards wasn’t typical behavior, but what was wrong with that? Some might have considered him a tad odd, but Ben made life interesting.
Anyways, back to the action.
“Ben skitters past the stairs, deftly dodging the painting and hammer reclined against the wall before reaching for the bathroom door han—”
Ben’s big toe crashed into the doorframe that was lying in ambush. Splinters of wood flew through the air, impaling themselves into the walls. The house itself shuddered from the impact.
“Doorframe!!!” the man cried with three exclamation points.
“Carl!!!!” the doorframe shouted with four, showing his obvious superiority.
“That’s not my name!” Ben retorted, offended that his name had slipped from his opponent’s grasp yet again. This was not their first engagement. In fact, it was merely the latest in a long train of conflicts and late-night encounters.
One second had passed.
Searing pain. After a momentary delay, it shot up his leg, leaping between the gaps of nerves and setting them all ablaze. His big toe? Utterly annihilated. His leg? Irreparably fractured. His pride? Tainted forever.
The doorframe’s taunts had only been a ploy. It had never forgotten him and had only intended to distract him.
Time froze as Ben stared down his foe, considering his next action.
Two seconds had passed.
Such agonizing, crippling agony demanded a response! However, Ben had to act quickly before the pain incapacitated him, leaving him paralyzed on the floor. His foe would not win so easily.
He weighed his options, considering every maneuver, course of action, and tactic available to him. Ultimately, he realized aggressively removing the door would only result in costly damage to the house. So he did the only reasonable thing. He kicked the door. Again. With his injured foot.
Three seconds had passed.
Ben’s vision went dark, and his knees buckled as his leg seared in pain.
“Ho, Ho! You cannot defeat me!” declared the door, confident of his victory.
“YOU!!! YOU!!!!!!!!!!! I’VE HAD ENOUGH!!!!” He quickly grabbed something lying on the floor nearby and did the doorframe the favor of introducing it to the business side of a hammer.
“Honey? What was all that screaming and racket about?” his wife groggily asked as he slid back under the covers.
“Oh, it was nothing.” Ben chuckled as he sank into his pillows and drifted off into a deep sleep.