People have been wondering why I’m living with my parents. An understandable question, I mean, what 35 year old woman with her own apartment has the need to shack up with the ‘rents? Ah, there’s the rub. You see, my bathroom started to disintegrate back in December. The ceiling was leaking. There were huge bulging sections of said ceiling full of water, slowly but determinedly destroying my bathroom. As is normal in a situation wherein you have an apartment that is owned by a conglomerate, the leak was not addressed, and it got worse and worse until I had to make a call to my parents screaming “The sky is falling, the SKY is FALLING!!!!” as my ceiling gushed water and threatened to fall right the fuck down.
So a lot of drama and phone calls and estimates happened, and blah blah blah, no one cares. Anyway, more than 6 months later, a work crew came in to demolish the bathroom and rebuild it. There’s a lot that I’m leaving out, the majority of which involves the three weeks I’d be unable to live in my apartment (kinda hard to do when there’s no toilet) mutating into “oh, you’ll move back in someday, but don’t hold your breath” which is AWESOME on SO many levels, but dudes, I have not gotten to the point of this post. Here we go.
As they were demolishing the walls, ripping out the bathtub, toilet, and sink, the construction guys found something. Something that was…curious. Not the extensive rotting wood. Not the ghastly water damage. Not even the termite farms. No, this discovery was something altogether different. Hey, remember the movie “The People Under The Stairs?”
Behold, a meeting of all my ex-boyfriends
FINE. It wasn’t a bunch of mutated boys hidden behind my bathroom walls. GEEZ, YOU PEOPLE ARE DEMANDING. No, it was something that explained why the bathroom was built to such shitty conditions. Behold, The Beer Behind The Wall:
Taste the rainbow
Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. That’s a four pack of Rheingold extra dry beer hidden between the wall and the foundation of my bathroom. I estimate the age of the cans to be around 1960, as they were even before pull-tabs, and even my old ass is too young to remember. So yeah. The People Under The Stairs were drinking the Beer Behind The Walls. Or more probably, the enormous amount of termites that ate my bathroom were drinking Rheingold and got confused, and destroyed my loo to the point that the whole damn thing has to be replaced. You know where this is going, don’t you?
FRANK THE TERMITE: *hic* Mikey. MIKEY. I need to shtell yous shomething. *HIC*
MIKE THE TERMITE: Whuzzat, Frankie?
FRANK: Lemme tell *hic* you shomthing. You? Are drunk.
MIKE: Ha ha ha.
FRANK: No. I’m sherious. You are *hic* drunk. Look at you. Chewing on the pipes.
MIKE: You dunno *hic* you…lemme tell you shomething. You dunno ANYTHING.
FRANK: Look at you. You’re gonna break your stupid *hic* jaw. You, *hic* mah friend…YOU…are you listening to me?
MIKE: Un *hic* fortunately.
FRANK: You are drunk. There*hic*fore, you need to listen to ME.
MIKE: Why are there three of you?
FRANK: See? This is what happens when you *HIC* drink 40 year old beer. You get DRUNK. For *hic* realsies.
MIKE: This wood is hurting my teeth.
FRANK: *SMACK* Snap out of it, Mikey! You’re chewing on a copper pipe, you idiot! *hic* What was I saying?
MIKE: This wood tastes funny.
FRANK: Mikey…Mikey. You know I love you, *hic* right?
MIKE: I know, Frankie. Should we make out?
FRANK: I think I need to puke first. *hic*
MIKE: Me too, Frankie. I love you, you know that?
FRANK: I love you too, Mikey. Uh oh. *BLEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!”
And that, my friends, is why you should never let your house-eating vermin consume alcohol. The More You Know. *RAINBOW!*