I'm Not Decent
A knock sounded at my apartment door so I opened it slightly. It was a lady friend from the third floor. Her commode sometimes clogged up so she occasionally came to use mine. I wasn't dressed but I thought maybe she wouldn't mind so I opened the door the rest of the way, standing behind it as she walked by.
“Your not decent,” she said when she turned to say something.
“Don't worry. I won't bother you.”
“Put your shorts on.”
“OK. Just give me a minute.”
She went in the bathroom. When she was done with the seat she noticed there was no bathroom tissue visible. I had hidden it. She soundlessly searched around and then gave up. After a while I heard her hand turn the knob and I said, “Don't come out. I'm not decent.”
“I can't find my shorts.”
“Put your jeans on.”
“I forgot that my housekeeper took all my clothes to the laundromats.”
“I'm not coming out until you are dressed.”
“Do you want a magazine? She won't be back for awhile.”
“NO! I DON'T WANT A MAGAZINE! GET DRESSED!”
“How about a novel? Maybe she will be back soon”
“Did you find the bathroom tissue? Let me see where it is.”
“I found it.”
“OK. Sit tight. She'll be here sometime.”
Things were quiet for a half hour, except an occasional bumping sound.
“When is she coming back?!”
“Soon, I'm sure.”
“I can't stand it anymore. I'm coming out.”
She had her head turned away as she walked by but just before she touched the door she turned and looked. Although the weather was warm I had on my winter coat and snow boots.
“This is all I could find to put on,” I explained.
“Wait 'till you see your bathroom,” she said, and walked out, slamming the door.
I ran to the bathroom expecting it to look like hurricane Hilda had been through. It was spotless. But then I happened to look at the thrown. In the water was my last roll of bathroom tissue. Hell hath no fury as a woman's scorn!
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