No, you sick perverted people, it’s not like that!
Anyways, it is a different version of ‘In the Shower with Andy’ by Andy Griffiths out of Just Annoying. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything you recognise and more. I only own Sally and Kayla.
I’m in the shower. Singing. And not just because the echo makes my voice sound so cool either. I’m singing because I’m so happy.
Ever since I’ve been old enough to have showers I’ve been trying to find a way to fill a shower cubicle up with water. If I put a face-washer over the plughole I can get the water as far up as my ankles, but it always ends up leaking out through the gaps in the door.
But I think I’ve finally found the answer – James’ silicone gun.
I’ve plugged up the plughole.
I’ve sealed up the shower-screen doors.
I’ve even filled in all the cracks in the tiles.
The cubicle is completely watertight and the water is already up to my knees.
And the best thing is that I’ve got all night to enjoy it.
Lily and James have got Remus and Kayla over for dinner. They’ll be too busy arranging wedding details to have time to worry about what I’m doing.
I hear banging on the door.
“Have you almost finished, Sirius?”
“No,” I say. “I think I’m going to be in here a while yet.”
“Can you hurry up?” yells Sally.
“But you already had your shower this morning,” I yell.
“I’m going out,” she says. “I need the bathroom!”
“Okay. I’ll be out in a minute,” I call. I always say that. It’s the truth. Sort of. I will be out in a minute – I’m just not saying which minute it will be.
The cubicle is filling with thick white steam. Just the way I like it. James is always telling us how important it is to turn the fan on when we’re having a shower, but I can’t see the point. A shower without steam doesn’t make sense. You might as well go and stand outside in the rain.
Lily’s rubber duck bumps against my legs. I pick it up.
“This is it,” I say. “Just you and me... going where no man – or rubber duck – has gone before.”
It has its bill raised in a sort of a smile. It must be as excited as I am. Let’s face it, there can’t be much excitement in the life of a rubber duck. Except that you’d get to see everybody without their clothes on.
Sally bangs on the door again.
“Okay,” I call. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“You said that a minute ago.”
“I’m washing my hair.”
“But you’ve been in there for at least half an hour. You don’t have that much hair.”
“I’m using a new sort of shampoo – I have to do it strand by strand.”
The water is almost up to my belly-button. There’s only one thing missing.
I pick up the bubble bath and measure out a capful. I tip it into the water. A few bubbles, but not enough.
I add another cap.
One more for good measure.
Another for good luck.
I keep adding bubble bath until the bottle is empty. The bubbles rise over my head. Cool. It’s like I’m being eaten by this enormous white fungus. Well, not that being eaten by an enormous white fungus would be cool – it would actually be quite uncool actually – but you know what I mean.
Sally is yelling.
“Sirius, if you don’t get out right this minute, you’re going to be sorry.”
Sally is persistent, I’ll give her that. But I’ll fix her. I’ll use my old ‘what did you say?’ routine.
“Pardon?” I yell. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re going to be sorry!”
“What? I can’t hear you!”
“I said get out of the shower!”
No reply. I win.
The water’s gone hot. BOILING HOT! Sally must have flushed the toilet. That’s bad news. I loose.
I jump back against the shower wall. Hot water splatters onto my face. My chest. My arms.
I grab the cold tap and turn it on full.
The hot water disappears. Now it’s FREEZING!
I’m going to have to turn both taps off and start again. I hate that. Being a pioneer is not easy.
I turn the hot tap off. But the cold won’t budge.
I grab the tap with both hands. I try to twist it clockwise but it’s stuck. Not even my super-strength can move it.
The silicone gun in hanging off the shower pipe. I pick it up and start bashing the tap with it. That should loosen it.
But the handgrip shatters.
The pieces disappear into the soapy water.
I’m staring at a thin metal rod coming out of the wall. And the water is still flowing out full blast.
I kneel down and clamp my teeth over the tap rod.
No good. The tap feels like it’s rusted into place. My teeth will crack before it moves. There’s no steam left. The bubbles have been flattened. The freezing water is almost up to my chest. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Time to bail out!
I take a deep breath and dive to the bottom of the shower. I’m trying to find the plughole. I’ve got to get the silicone out before the shower fills up completely.
But I can’t do it. I did the job too well. There’s nothing but a hard rubbery slab of silicone where the plug used to be. I can’t poke through it. I can’t get a fingernail underneath to lift it up. It’s time like these that I wish I didn’t bite my nails. But then it’s times like this that cause me to bite my nails in the first place.
I stand up, gasping for air. The water is up to my neck. I grab hold of the doorhandle and try to wrench it open but I laid the silicone even thicker on the doors than the plughole. If you ever want something sealed tight I can recommend James’ silicone gun. This stuff stays stuck forever.
I’m going to have to break the door down. I’ll use the gun. It made short work of the tap so the door shouldn’t be a problem.
I bash the glass with the gun handle. It bounces off. I bash it again, harder this time.
The gun snaps in two. Just my luck. Reinforced shower screen glass. Unbreakable.
I’m shivering. And not just from the cold. I’m scared.
I start bashing the door with the duck.
“HELP! I’M DROWNING! HELP!”
“I’m not surprised!” Sally yells back. “You’ve been in there long enough.”
“Sally, I’m not kidding. Help me!”
“What did you say?” she says. “I can’t hear you.”
“Be serious,” I yell. “I’ve siliconed myself in here.”
She wins again.
I’m treading water. My head is very close to the top of the shower.
The only way I can save myself is to get rid of the water.
I’m going to have to drink it.
Dirty soapy shower water.
I’d rather die...
The water nudges the tip of my nose.
Actually, on second thoughts I’d rather drink the water.
I start swallowing.
It’s working. I just have to drink as fast as the shower is filling up. And if I can drink even faster then I might get out of here alive yet. Actually the water doesn’t taste that bad – it’s only been three days since my last shower.
I keep swallowing.
And swallowing. And swallowing. And swallowing.
I can’t believe this. I need to go to the toilet. But I can’t. I’ll drink dirty shower water but I won’t drink that.
I’ve got to hold on.
But I can’t do that, either.
My head is bumping against the roof of the shower. It’s getting harder to breathe. There’s more banging on the door but it sounds like it is coming from a far way away.
“I’m going to tell James,” says Sally in a distant voice. “Is that what you want? Is it?”
“Yes Sally,” I call. “Yes! Please hurry!”
Everything becomes quiet.
My life is flashing before my eyes.
I see myself blowing a high-pitched whistle while Lily is trying to talk on the phone. I see myself letting down the tyres on Remus’ car. I see myself hiding a rubber snake in Kayla’s bed. Is that all I did with my life? Annoy people? Surely I did something useful... something good?
I can’t think of anything. Except for solving the problem of how to fill a shower cubicle with water. I may be going to die, but at least it will be a hero’s death. Future generations of British children will thank me as they float around in their sealed-up shower cubicles.
Something is pressing into the top of my head.
I look up.
The fan! I forgot all about it. It’s not very big, but it’s better than nothing. I if can get the grille off then I can escape through the hole and up into the roof.
I work my fingers under the edge of the grille and pull on it. It comes off easily. I reach into the casing and grab hold of the fan. I rock it back and forth. There is a little give in it. I start giving it all I’ve got.
Finally the bolts holding it gave way. I push my arms and head into the hole, kicking like mad to get the thrust I need to make it all the way. All that Quiddich must help.
The opening is smaller than I thought. I expel every last bit of air in my lungs to make myself thin enough to fit through the hole. Not that there was much air left in them, but it seems to help.
At last! I’m through!
I’m laying on a yellow insulation batt I the roof of the Potter’s house. The fibres are prickly on my skin, but I’m not complaining. It’s a lot better than where I was. I look back into the hole. It’s like one of those fishing holes that Eskimos cut in the ice. But there’s no fish. Just Lily’s rubber duck. I reach down and pick it out. We’re in this together. I can’t just leave it.
After I get my breath back I look around. I know there’s a manhole in the top of the kitchen. All I have to do is to locate it, climb down into the kitchen and nick down the hallway to the guest room. Then I can put on my pyjamas and go to bed early. It will save a lot of boring explanation – and, if I’m really lucky, Sally will get the blame.
I have to move fast. I start crawling towards the kitchen. I’m carrying the duck in one hand and using my other hand to feel my way along the roof beam.
Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my thumb. I jerk my hand back and almost lose my balance. I fling the duck away so I can grab the beam with my other hand.
I look at my thumb. A huge splinter is sticking out of it. I pull it out with my teeth. Ouch! I shake my hand a few times and look around for Lily’s duck. I hope she won’t miss it if we don’t make it out alive. It has landed in the middle of a large unsupported section of insulation batts. I’m tempted to leave it there. But that wouldn’t be right. It’s been with me all the way. I can’t abandon it now.
I reach towards it but it’s too far away. I’m going to have to crawl out. I know that you aren’t supposed to climb on the unsupported parts of the roof, but I think it will be okay. I’m not that heavy. And it’s not as if I have any clothes on to weight me down.
I climb carefully onto the batts and start moving slowly to the centre. One more metre and I am there.
I pick up Lily’s duck and bring it up to my face. “Just you and me,” I say.
The duck creaks. That’s weird. I didn’t know ducks could talk.
Uh-oh. The creaking isn’t coming from the duck. It’s coming from underneath me. The ceiling is giving way. I try to grab the roof beam but I can’t reach it.
The ceiling caves in.
The next thing I know I’m laying, legs spread, in the middle of the dinner table – my fall broken by an insulation batt.
As the dust from the ceiling plaster settles, I see James, Lily, Remus and Kayla staring down at me.
Sally is standing next to James. Her bath towel draped over her shoulders. Her back is turned to me and she is so busy complaining to James that she doesn’t notice what has happened.
“...I’ve asked him a million times to get out...” she is saying.
“Oh dear,” says Lily.
“Oh my,’ says Remus.
For once in her life Kayla is speechless.
“Oh no,” says James, shaking his head at me. “No, no, no!”
“Oh yes” says Sally. “And I’ll tell you what else...”
James nods in my direction. Sally stops, turns around and stares. I cover myself with the rubber duck, swing my legs over the edge of the table and stand up.
“I beg your pardon,” I say. “I was looking for the kitchen.”
Nobody says anything. They are all just staring at me, their faces and clothes white from the plaster dust. I head towards the door as fast as I can. As I’m about to exit I turn towards Sally. She is still standing there, eyes wide.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” I say. “Shower’s free!”