Sometimes here at the Profound Bartender…we try to have a little sense of humor in our writing once in a while, so we might stretch the story just a wee bit here and there..
I walked to the sink, raised my hands to the front of the spout and waited for water to gush forth.
I raised and lowered my hands.
Waved them to the right, then left, right, and back again.
The black eye beneath the faucet stared unblinkingly at me, daring me to decipher the code that would unlock the secret-of-the-mysterious-men’s-room-faucet and unplug the aqueduct awaiting its command. No deep-set orbs staring from a James Bond antagonist could have been more implacable.
I decided to merely take two steps to the right and wash my hands in a friendlier sink. This eye winked at me and hygienating aqua just washed my ooze away. I was walkin’ on done-time.
I take a couple sidesteps and pause for further supplication. I raise my hands once more, this time asking the God of Paper Towels to answer my prayer. But a stoic deity awaited before me, unresponsive. I tried the Obi Wan door-opening gesture (now available to magically provoke electric doors in all your favorite stores) but the force was not with me.
Next, elbows. With hands still dripping. First the left across the bow, then the right in counterpoint. A short, though ineffective, rhythm was established.
The problem was embedded, perhaps, in the capricious nature of this God of Paper Towels. Perhaps this plastic distributer of dryness was of mischievous nature. Perhaps the unnamed one required total subjugation.
I turned and brandished my bum before this blessed beast.
This-One-Who-Cannot-Be-Moved, did not.
I decided to merely take two steps to the right, coming to rest before the Goddess of Wind and Air. Here, emulating Daniel-san, I wiped on, then wiped off.
And the breeze burst forth.
With pristine paws and purity of heart, I stepped out of the dungeon of difficult dispensers, ready for my second labour of the day – to unravel the maze of the mysterious mall.