TurboFreak said:
:icon_bigg Thanks. Trying to keep a sense of humor about things. Let me see if I can relate an anecdote about the time Screen Door and I first met.
When I came to see the apartment, the landlord took me in through the back door. Thought nothing of it at the time, though thinking back the landlord did have a fantastically gruesome scar. The sort of results you get from confusing an African Safari with a petting zoo. Coincidence?
The front door it's self is a formidable barrier. It may have at one point been a portion of a Fortune 500 CEO's desk. I can easily picture the darkly gleaming expanse of some nearly mythical tree species known for breaking saw blades. It would have served to protect said CEO from any conceivable catastrophic event short of a thermo-nuclear detonation. If not that, then it was surely part of the drawbridge of some medieval fortress capable of supporting an entire company of solders in full battle dress. As such, its the only part of the structure I live in that has not succumbed to the effects of innumerable San Francisco bay area earthquakes over the last 80 years since it went up. The building has a list too it. Oranges roll off the counter like in Poltergeist. Yet Front Door remains stubbornly upright in it's rhomboid frame. Getting it open took no small effort on my part. At first I thought there was a hidden lock, but a quick search defeated that theory. Summoning a mighty yank coupled with my foot planted on the wall for leverage, I wrenched Front Door open with enough force to rattle Window ( yes, the only one ).
I now stood face to face with Screen Door. I had no idea what I was in for. It would be similar to slaying the largest Anaconda on record, then turning to face a tiny adder snake, not knowing this new foe is in fact one of the most venomous and ill tempered creatures ever to have existed. I was not to be deterred in my quest to get outside. Opening Screen Door just enough to slip out was unremarkable until I released it, and was alarmed by the speed at which it snapped shut and the reverberating report that ensued. Getting back in was an entirely different problem. Carrying a large box in, I had to get my foot in and crack Screen Door open until I could get a shoulder in and get enough clearance to get the box through. Much like a compound bow, the damper relented after a certain point and Screen Door quivered on the edge of its release point just long enough for me to get clear. What happened next is a bit foggy. Behind me I hear the sounds of tortured air molecules being ripped savagely out of their occupied space by the acceleration of Screen Door through its trajectory. Milliseconds after Screen Door obliterates the sound barrier, I am hit with the shock wave that results from any object that exceeds 760 odd miles per hour. The concussive force of said shock wave is surely akin to catching the business end of a speeding city bus while jaywalking. When I came too, I thought it was night, as I could not see a damn thing. That phenomenon quickly gave way to a dazzling display of lazily twinkling lights everywhere.
Screen Door 1. Matt 0.
I really don't bother Front Door and its abhorrent sibling, Screen Door any more. In fact, I think I would rather attempt to take Cujo's favorite squeaky toy from his slobbering mandibles than tangle with those two again.
Disclaimer: this is a non-fictional account of actual events, however some exaggeration may be present.
