Tyloric
Illogical Process of Elimination
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2008
- Messages
- 2,865
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Out of Toilet Paper
“You’re what?” She called through the doorway.
“Out of toilet paper.” He called back.
“And you’ve been in there how long?”
There was a pause. “An hour?” Jason guessed.
Stacy, his sister, gawked at the door for a moment. “That’s sick.”
“The sick part is its drying.”
“Ewww!” she yelled, heading for the upstairs bathroom.
“Who’s in there?” his mother called.
“Jason.” He answered.
“Will you be done soon?”
“I am done.”
“You are?”
“I am.”
“Why don’t you come out?”
“I’m out of toilet paper. Can you get me some?”
She frowned. “You father is out with the car.”
“Oh.” He replied, his voice sad.
“Hold on.” She called and walked away.
“Use this.” She called, sliding it under the door.
A moment later, “I can’t use this.”
She frowned again. “Why not?”
“This is printing paper.”
“So?”
“That would be like a total ‘F you’ to the tree. He wasn’t cut down for toilet paper, he was cut down to be printed on. I can’t in my right mind use him on my behind.”
“Stop being so dramatic, Jason!” she scorned.
The paper slid back on the door. “I can’t do it.”
She sighed. “You’ll have to wait until your father gets home.”
“When will that be?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
She walked away shaking her head.
“Oh good, you’re home.” She said to her husband, pecking him on the cheek.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Jason’s stuck in the bathroom without toilet paper.”
The father’s expression was puzzled. “But he’s in the living room.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I just talked to him.”
She moved past him in to the living room to find Jason sitting on the couch. “You found toilet paper?”
“Nope.” He responded with a straight face.
Her expression turned to that of disgust. “You mean you didn’t--?!”
“I took a shower.”
“You used the bar of soap?! For… that?!”
“Desperate times, mother.”
“Ugh!” she yelled, heading back up the stairs.
On the way back to her room, she noticed the upstairs bathroom light was on. She frowned, and knocked. “Who’s in there?”
“Stacy.”
“Are you alright?”
There was a pause. “There isn’t any toilet paper.”
Out of Toilet Paper
By Tyloric
By Tyloric
For Daniel J., for exactly the reason you think.
“You’re what?” She called through the doorway.
“Out of toilet paper.” He called back.
“And you’ve been in there how long?”
There was a pause. “An hour?” Jason guessed.
Stacy, his sister, gawked at the door for a moment. “That’s sick.”
“The sick part is its drying.”
“Ewww!” she yelled, heading for the upstairs bathroom.
5 minutes later
“Who’s in there?” his mother called.
“Jason.” He answered.
“Will you be done soon?”
“I am done.”
“You are?”
“I am.”
“Why don’t you come out?”
“I’m out of toilet paper. Can you get me some?”
She frowned. “You father is out with the car.”
“Oh.” He replied, his voice sad.
“Hold on.” She called and walked away.
2 minutes later
“Use this.” She called, sliding it under the door.
A moment later, “I can’t use this.”
She frowned again. “Why not?”
“This is printing paper.”
“So?”
“That would be like a total ‘F you’ to the tree. He wasn’t cut down for toilet paper, he was cut down to be printed on. I can’t in my right mind use him on my behind.”
“Stop being so dramatic, Jason!” she scorned.
The paper slid back on the door. “I can’t do it.”
She sighed. “You’ll have to wait until your father gets home.”
“When will that be?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
She walked away shaking her head.
15 minutes later
“Oh good, you’re home.” She said to her husband, pecking him on the cheek.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Jason’s stuck in the bathroom without toilet paper.”
The father’s expression was puzzled. “But he’s in the living room.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I just talked to him.”
She moved past him in to the living room to find Jason sitting on the couch. “You found toilet paper?”
“Nope.” He responded with a straight face.
Her expression turned to that of disgust. “You mean you didn’t--?!”
“I took a shower.”
“You used the bar of soap?! For… that?!”
“Desperate times, mother.”
“Ugh!” she yelled, heading back up the stairs.
On the way back to her room, she noticed the upstairs bathroom light was on. She frowned, and knocked. “Who’s in there?”
“Stacy.”
“Are you alright?”
There was a pause. “There isn’t any toilet paper.”
fin.
