The hell of it is, I knew this thing was too small. I looked at it, and I said, “William, you are taking a risk here.” But I do love baths, and you know what? I earned it. The Panama Canal? That thing isn’t building itself. After a long day on my feet, I want to soak for a little bit.
You know I’m a sucker for a well-made bathtub. The ornamentation on this thing! It’s one of those that looks like it has the little feet on it. I wonder what the story behind that is. For me, it’s just fun. I used to like to imagine those little feet could come to life and carry me around everywhere. I would never have to leave my bathtub. I guess I should have been careful what I wished for though, because now it looks like that could become a reality.
I knew I was stuck as soon as I sat down. I thought maybe the warm water made my body expand slightly, so I waited for it to cool down. The bath is luke-warm now, and guess what. Still stuck.
I’ve been shouting for help. I figure the best thing to shout is probably, “Could someone come in here?” Once someone is in the bathroom, I can delicately explain to them that I’m stuck in this tub. I just don’t feel like shouting it.
I tried to rock the tub too. I thought maybe I could just spill out onto the floor like some sort of sea creature. I think the claw feet are bolted to the floor though.
The really embarrassing thing is, I used to toilet before I got into the tub. And I didn’t flush it. I always just flush after I get out. Now, when someone comes in here, they will not only find me trapped in a bathtub, but they’ll also find my big, stinky number two.
My eyes are starting to feel heavy. Luckily, my body is lodged in this tub in such a way that it would be physically impossible for me to drown. All there is left to do is pray. Pray that I don’t get bathtub sores again.