A True Story

Published 25/10/2012 by crimsonghad

This is a TRUE story about something which happened to me literally hours ago and could easily have taken place in How I Met Your Mother, The Big Bang Theory or Peep Show. Enjoy.

I was making a wonderful homemade bacon cheeseburger for dinner when from out of our top floor window I observed one of our neighbours standing outside his kitchen door, strange given the time of 8pm and the cold of the night. I stared listlessly at him for a few seconds mesmerised by this half-man, half hobbit before he turned around and saw me. I immediately slinked away – the spell broken by his piercing gaze. I thought nothing more of it.

10 minutes later as I was eating my food there was a knock at the door. My flatmate and I flashed a confused, slightly panicked look at each other. I had been to my parents’ house earlier and assumed that perhaps I had left something behind.

‘I’ll get it. It might be for me.’

As I descended the stairs I switched on the lights unaware of what was awaiting me.

I opened the door to find my unnamed neighbour whose bizarre visage had haunted me merely 10 minutes previously.

Now I have spoken to this man once before when I was on the way to get my hair cut. He stopped me to ask the about the weather – when we were both standing outside – and various other slightly disturbing, mundane questions in a mildly simple manner. He waited there outside his house. And waited. I returned from my hair cut and there he was looking like a clean-cut version of Cousin Itt from The Addams Family and with a fragrance of stale smoke, sweat and something that can only be described as weirdness. I walked around town for a further 20 minutes just to avoid this man. I came back. He was still there. I went for another 20 minute detour and he was gone. I had escaped. But not this time…

‘Hello,’ He greeted me.

‘Hi,’ I replied.

‘I’m your neighbour and I saw you a few minutes ago looking at me and I felt I should explain,’ My first thought, of course, was, ‘Explain what?’ But he continued.

‘I was urinating in the corridor beside my house because my toilet had too much tissue in it.’ Alarm bells started to ring at this point. ‘ I feel I should apologise because I wouldn’t normally do it but, you know, there was too much tissue in the toilet and I didn’t think it would flush so I just had to go outside. I feel bad that you had to witness that.’

‘That’s ok,’ I said, ‘I hadn’t actually noticed. I wasn’t looking that closely.’

I didn’t ask him why he had not tried to flush his toilet to get rid of the tissue paper that was blocking it – the last time I checked that was the sole purpose of a toilet – as it didn’t seem like the right time to question his logic. I also failed to ask him why he had not used his own bath or shower, rather than an alley, to relieve himself. Again, I was not prepared for such a situation to arise. This is my fault. I freely admit this.

It continued.

‘I’m Tom, your neighbour,’ He attempted to engage me in a non-urinating context which given the news he had just provided me with was not high on my priority list.

‘Well,’ He said, ‘I’m sorry. It’s Ollie isn’t it?’

‘Erm…No,’ I replied, since that isn’t my name.

‘You’re Ollie. You live here right?’

‘No, I’m Gary,’ I corrected him.

‘And you live here with Ollie?’

‘No. I live with Robbie. My flatmate,’ Who was (hopefully) listening upstairs ready to save me at any minute.

‘Oh. Ok Ollie, well, sorry once again. I don’t normally urinate in public it’s not like me but the toilet was, er, full of tissue.’

‘Yeah, Ok,’ I desperately tried to end the conversation as the end game suddenly flashed in to my mind.

A slightly awkward pause ensued as I tried to usher him away like Jehovah’s Witnesses were on my doorstep. Surely he wouldn’t? After what he had just told me? No chance. I tried to pull away with a petrified smile on my face half closing the door.

‘Well, ok, Gary. Good to meet you.’ And there it was. He reached out his piss soaked hand toward me.

So what was I to do?

Can you just shut the door on someone who had the balls – pun intended – to confront their indiscretion in such daring terms?

Or do you shake the hand of someone who has just admitted to weeing outdoors by their own house for reasons that I will never understand?

I did what ANY of you would do. I shook it…then slammed the door and ran upstairs to wash my hands. Many, many times.

Robbie was waiting upstairs and, needless to say, he had the last laugh.

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