Hiding from the law
Idk even know what I’m doing any more
I have always been the definition of of a goody two-shoes, a brown noser, a teacher’s pet.
In my thirteen years of schooling I never once came even remotely close to getting a detention. I was the shining example as Head Girl with a squeaky clean record and the only thing that pissed them off, lesbianism, they couldn’t complain about! None of this has changed since getting to university, the porters have never told me off, the Dean has no idea who I am and I try really hard to just be inconspicuous in general.
Alas, this week a cruel turn of events threw me into a life of perpetual terror. The harsh hand of the powers that be might at any moment plummet down to place a short, sharp, not at all kinky slap on my bum. Allow me to set the scene and embark on a story that will shock even the sturdiest of readers. You have been warned.
It was a sunny morning when I leapt out of bed, threw on a plaid shirt and denim shorts, and made my way cheerily to the English Faculty. I listened intently to my 9am lecture and spent the rest of the day in the library, working away. Buoyed up on my immense productivity I strolled home thinking of Blake’s representation of race in Songs of Innocence and Experience. Little did I know that I would imminently be entering a den of sinful iniquity far from innocent.
I had left two well known rule breakers, Bart le Terreur and Hella-lotta-Muffy, alone for a few short hours. But in that time their criminal minds had been at work and I was swiftly regaled with their morning antics that had put me in my now terrified position. Having his morning shower, Bart noticed a mysterious whiff in the air. Upon further investigation he discovered a monumental poo in the communal bathroom at the bottom of our staircase. Some shitter extraordinaire had deposited one the size of a small child that was now blocking the toilet and seemed to be climbing its way out of the bowl.
With much excitement, Bart le Terreur rushed to find Hella-lotta-Muffy so that they could study the specimen together. But upon returning to the scene they found the matter had already been reported and the toilet door locked and out of order. Anybody else would have at this point admitted defeat and acknowledged that going on a quest to see a giant poo was actually kind of weird. But Bart and Hella are not just anybody, no, their criminal minds whirred into action and they concocted a cunning plan. Using her natural wiliness, Hella-lotta-Muffy attempted to break in by slinking under the locked door. All was well and good until the torso, at this point Hella got stuck.
In blind panic, with no vaseline to ease Hella free, Bart le Terreur rushed to find a porter to free his accomplice from the vice like grip of the toilet door. An utterly bemused porter arrived on the scene, unlocking the door and freeing a bruised Hella-lotta-Muffy. The porter, quite rightly angry at this disturbance, asked for the name of the culprit. Already being an intruder in the college, Hella-lotta-Muffy chose to name himself after none other than your naively innocent narrator.
And so we reach this point. I have been holed away in my room all week, lights off, tap running, attempting to avoid the inevitable doom that awaits. It will only be a matter of time until the booming voice of the Dean calls me to his dungeon of torture and hauls me over the coals for “my” attempt to break in to a shit suffering toilet.
I hope that I can write again to you next week, if not, you know where I am.