SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (Episode 1)

Short Series: Episode 1

As I opened my dorm room door, a gust of arid air swept my brow with such a gust my contact lenses tightened to my pupils. She sat there on her bed, mumbling to herself, and I began to ask her if she is all right but hesitated. Then, I changed my mind.

                “Are you feeling alright?” My Cruzan (I was from the island of St. Croix, my dialect is called ‘Cruzan’) accent was not heavy, but it slipped out hardly noticed by her ears.

                “You have no idea, you have no idea…” she kept repeating as if she was trying to convince herself to manage with whatever unspeakable horror. I could tell she was sweating badly. The neck of her shirt was soaked and her forehead shone with speckles of sweat. Her pants was soaked too, or wet, but matted down at the groin area, and she seemed fragile and timid.

                What would make someone sweat so? I disguised my ill thoughts, though I could only imagine three scenarios: a rape, a beating, a rape and a beating, or someone embarrassed her in the cafeteria. Then, I wondered if she was just psyching me out, you know…the college roommate prank. I wasn’t going to fall for it one bit, she better talk it out right now!

                I almost shouted at her, “what is it…tell me!” My voice rose a little higher, to emphasize immediacy. It had been almost two minutes now. It’s after one in the morning, and nothing good happens during that time of the night! As I stood by her bed bare-footed and in the polka-dot pajamas my mother made especially for my freshman year in college. She parted her quivering lip to speak, and I anticipated that at any moment she would blurt out what had her breaking out in sweats and quivering like a giggling Elmo. Maybe…maybe I didn’t want to know or maybe I shouldn’t know…Now, I knelt in front of her whispering, “what is it May, tell me.” Then, she expelled like I’ve never seen anyone expel before!

                “I can’t tell you! You won’t understand! I’m in a situation!”

                I egged her on, “come on, you can tell me.” I even managed to smile in her sweaty little face and my hand on her shoulder was succumbed with sweat.

                “I…I…” she slowly started. It was happening; she was finally opening up… “I…I…ummm…clogged…clogged one of the community bathroom toilets!” The words just tumbled out of her mouth.

                It was too shocking! No…you didn’t clog the bathroom toilet! That would have me sweating in places that I could never imagine too! She couldn’t  look me in the eye…and I couldn’t look her in the eye either, because I wanted to laugh in her face so damn hard. For the sake of understanding, I found myself saying, “oh, that happens to everyone,” then, I get up from where I knelt in front of her and proceeded to go to my bed. After a pause, I whispered under my breath, “once in a while.” Suddenly, she lunged at me and grabbed my arm, bringing me closer to her.

                “Wait…” she pleaded, with the full effect of all her sweat and tears that stained her face. The smell crept into my nose. Yes, she smelled bad, but I stopped inhaling anyway. Something told me to be a nice roommate and listen. Hey, what are roommates for, eh?

                “It didn’t go down, and I…I…” I knew what she was going to say, before she said it.

                “I know, I know, you ran like hell and left it in the bowl. Everyone does that when the water starts to rise…” I said with a shrug of my shoulders, but that was not the end of it…I assumed.

                “No, I put it in a Wal-Mart bag!” As she said this she pointed to a small blue Wal-Mart bag in one corner of the room. I looked in the direction she pointed to and realized that it was in my corner of the room! And then, my eyes popped! Yes, I was blazing mad! But…most of all, I was scared as hell! What the hell was going on here! One clogged toilet and the girl went clear out of her mind!

                She continued, “most people don’t stick their hands in the toilet to take it out…” she said with a pout. “At least, I washed my hands.”

                Maybe my imagination ran wild, but I could actually see her running into the room picking up any plastic bag in sight. Then, she ran back to the bathroom and didn’t even debate the sanity of the situation. Stick your hand in…ewwwww…

                I gagged in my throat, but fought the case of acid reflux that came up suddenly. My mind was screaming, “And you touched her! WASH YOUR HANDS! Better yet, take a shower, quick!”

                I turned to her, with a frown and said, “Are you crazy?” There was no response. She stared at me, which did not look good.

                Then, her bottom lip quivered again, she frowned…and all of a sudden she stood up. Niagara Falls! She began to blubber all over herself, cried while she tried to explain, “I know you couldn’t handle it, I know you wouldn’t understand!”

                I was forced to listen to this for the rest of the night. Her crying and sniffling was the lullaby that put me to sleep. Was this really happening? Would I wake up the next morning and not find that bag of poop in the same corner of my room? I’d be sick if it was there!

To be continued…