Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank

Lord Rutherford’s Gold Foil Disco Suits Were a Big Hit in Vegas But the Beryllium Earrings Were Simply Gaudy

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by David S. Atkinson


It’s unfortunate that my friend Fred has a mirror running the length of his bathroom wall. People keep getting trapped in it and we have a heck of a time getting them out. We’re running out of shaving cream. It’s enough to make us take out the mirror, but then people couldn’t fix their hair. That would never do.

There’s something about the full room replicated like that. A moment’s distraction is all that’s necessary for the mind to forget which side of the glass it’s on, and then the soul’s attraction to quicksilver takes over. The body can’t exist without a soul, so it follows along as well. You know, all that seventh-grade human growth and development type stuff.

It’s really pretty basic.

Other rooms don’t seem to have the same issue, but Marie Curie’s pioneering bathroom science research showed lavatories to be particularly vulnerable to side switching kinds of distractions. Something about the optics and porcelain to drywall ratio, toxic toothpaste fumes and ceramic tile codependent atomic bonds. That, and the mental distancing we all do to avoid being overly disgusted by our own intimate bodily processes. For vanity reasons if nothing else, one look and dinner parties are halted yet again.

It plays hell on the timing of the courses.

Though, it’s not as if there isn’t room in the mirror. People are comfortable and all. Sure, it’s two-dimensional, but the light wave reflections inside the glass makes that mimic the conditions of three. It’s all light anyway, so those trapped still think that they can move around. They just can’t get out, since the door in the mirror image is not a physically operational object.

It sucks.

We have to go in there with the Shop-Vac when it happens, reconstitute their particles in the blender with a little bit of chunky-style peanut butter. Like on Star Trek. It’s not a big deal, but it does tend to leave guests swearing lifelong blood vendettas against their host and everyone who ever voted for Hubert Humphrey.

Fred was about ready to take the mirror out anyway, say to hell with winning the Charles Atlas Most Dynamic Home and Garden competition, which we’d lost for sixteen years running anyway due to Electoral College corruption, but I had a better idea. We’re going to open up the wall behind that mirror so people can just walk on out from either side.

I foresee no problems with that.

 

published 15 June 2016