Guess who’s in the shower? Dirk. Guess who’s not anywhere near the shower? You. You’re going to die before he gets his ass out of there and lets you in, you’re going to have a life here, get married here, build a house here, have three generations of tiny piss babies before you actually get to go pee. You can feel the steam coming out from the edges of the door and maybe that’s good, maybe he’s boiling himself alive in there and then you won’t ever have to worry about getting locked out of the bathroom ever again.
“Diiirk,” you whine and press your face into the panel of the door, let your feet slide backwards out under you as you drag your cheek down the warm wood. “Get out. Get the fuck out. Get out of the shower. Get out of the bathroom. Get out of my life.”
You’re literally dying you’re going to piss right here and see if it’ll grow a little piss garden for all your stupid piss grandbabies. Maybe a green thumb extends itself to all situations or something. You bang the door harder with your palm.
“Dirk, fuck, seriously man, you don’t gotta lock the goddamn door every time I just needa pee real bad I won’t even look at you naked or anything okay it’s just gonna be a straight beeline to the toilet, tunnel vision right to its glistening waters Dirk please I needa piss you’ve been in there for like three hours c’mon.”
