Thursday, June 28, 2012

Things I Hate That You Love: Shower Doors

Last night my roommate's sliding shower door seemed to shatter inexplicably. I was the only person in the apartment all night. After two people implied my culpability I decided to defend myself the only way I knew how:
(Copied from my post on my roommate's wall with minor edits.)

The wood paneled walls rumble as PROSECUTOR (clean cut, 40’s) orates to a mesmerized court. He points to the center of the floor where a large easel bears the photograph of a cracked glass shower door. 

The JUDGE (Older white man, fat) and the Jury (assortment of New York locals) nod, the verdict has been made in all but formality.

..we HAVE the evidence. No-one else could have done this.

He points to the defendant, DAVID (late 20’s, ripped abs, huge cock).

Prosecutor (cont.)
His own LAWYER didn’t even bother to show up. I rest my case.

The doors FLING open and MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY blasts in, shirt collar covered in lipstick stains.

Objection your honor.

The prosecutor laughs at the ridiculous misuse of…


Look, I know my client is an asshole, a criminal, and a known racist.

David shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Where’s Mcconaughey going with this? David’s Armani shirt pulls tight over his taut abs.

But what does he gain from smashing his best friend’s shower door? And more importantly can anyone explain the glass shatter pattern?

The Prosecutor sweats an AK bullet from his temple as Mcconaughey moves towards the photo.

Mcconaughey (cont.)
This glass radiates outward but the force couldn’t have been applied from the other side since the other door was in the way. He didn’t smash it from inside then move it back because there is no collateral glass underneath the frame of the remaining door. The ONLY way this could’ve been done was if my client was able to shrink to the size of an ant and smash the glass while the doors were still aligned. And I don’t think my client is a Hank Pym. I move this case be dismissed.

The Judge, stunned by Mcconaughey’s nerdy Avenger’s reference, immediately pounds the gavel.

Case dismissed. Not Guilty.

The Jury, seeming to not care they were bypassed in the ruling, all get up and begin a slow clap for Matthew Mcconaughey. 

The Prosecutor is stunned at the shoddy level of professionalism and legal misuse. The papers on his desk magically fly up and drift down slowly around him, a metaphor for his life now.

The Bailiff lifts the Stenographer up and kisses her. Matthew’s shirt gets caught on a table leg and is ripped clean off. The audience woops.

In all of this, David breathes a sigh of relief and for the first time since he developed those cannonball shoulders, smiles. He stands with his briefcase and exits amidst the uproar of the party.

David descends the courthouse stairs onto the sidewalk and stops at a store window to look at his reflection.
Suddenly his coat sleeves suddenly start getting longer. The collar of his shirt is widening. No, wait.
His clothes aren’t growing, HE’S SHRINKING.
David smirks as he slowly shrinks out of view.


The store window begins to crack.