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Keeping Stock... or, The Day I Was Kidnapped by Public Amenities


Yeah, great living with other people. Recall those mornings when you wake up to discover that for the second day running the house has no toilet paper? Still. I mean, dang, am I the only human in this house with a fully functioning digestive system? HUH?!

It's 7.55am, my lift to work leaves at 8.15. Desperation called for a full assault on the public toilets.

My target lay a few minutes push-bike ride away thus with flat tires squishing to shower sparks from gutter grinding rims at close quarters with corners, high speed negotiations... I belted across the vast public carpark and approaching the target, I flew into the air Crouching Tiger style (full slo-mo), bike crashes into the wall as I drift through the door of the nearest cubicle. The sands of the hourglass had all but one grain left to fall before an onslaught of... well, best not mentioned.

Ok, with business attended to, I make for the door... but the door of this little hot box is locked. And I soon find out, un-unlockable. I'm beginning to feel the fear. Now here's where I'm thinkin about how the feck I'm going to make it out of this one - early on saturday morning, no-one about and a dunny door bristling with as much stainless steel as a Coogee coffee shop... I've got my house-keys and...
By some freak of providence, I find I've brought my phone. With 8 seconds of credit I make what could be the most important call of my life...

"Ahhh, Carlo... let me flesh out a scenario for you..." but the phone goes dead. Luckily he calls me back, gets the lowdown, turns up a fews minutes later and, with the aid of a large screwdriver, muscles up to the door and soon brings me daylight.

Traumatised, I make my way into work vowing never, never ever, never ever ever to let the roll stock drop below 4 in the house ever again.

Let this be a warning to you all.

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