So, practically every day I come home from work and get in the elevator, I find something different on the elevator floor. I have decided that I should keep a running tally of the things on the floor of the elevators in my building.
So far, since they removed the carpet from the elevators and eliminated the dog pee problem (YAY!) there have been the following things, roughly in order of appearance:
- Puddle of beer, probably half a can, splattered all over the elevator. Floor, walls, not ceiling. The ceiling is like 10+ feet high, so they didn't drop it with enough gusto. Maybe next time.
- Tallboy of Keystone Light. Probably empty, 'cause there was another one right outside the lobby doors. Somebody was trying really hard to get drunk on cheap beer. Hope that worked out and that they didn't just end up having to pee a lot.
- A nice looking red travel coffee mug with a spout cap on it. This made it out into the lobby later that evening.
- Shattered bottle of 101 proof peppermint schnapps. Easily the most pleasant smelling elevator disaster so far, but sticky and shards of glass everywhere.
- The Saddest Condom in the Universe. Still in the package, and it looked like it'd been through the laundry twice. I seriously almost took a picture of this one, but there was somebody else in the elevator with me and taking a picture of a discarded condom seems like something one should do while nobody is looking.
So, here's what I'm pretty sure happened. I'm going to name the character in this story Dave, after my lizardman in Skyrim. (Don't judge me. Dave is a perfectly good name for a lizardman in a fantasy world RPG. A PERFECTLY GOOD NAME.) Also, I will warn you, this is possibly in the top 10 worst stories ever written. So don't say I didn't warn you.
The entire reason I posted this was because I started to crack a joke on Facebook, and it got too long to fit in a status update. So, here you go. Without further ado...
Dave was an ordinary sort of guy, in an ordinary sort of town. To protect the anonymity of said town, we'll call it Protland, Ogeron.
Right then. Dave had just moved into town with nothing but a Geo Metro full of bicycle parts, fake moustaches, and a knife sharpening kit. He had big dreams, you know. Big dreams. Dreams of opening up a knife sharpening cart right here in downtown. Gang members, chefs, and people who enjoy that horrible scrrritch-scrrritch noise would congregate at his popular new knife sharpening cart from all over to watch him demonstrate his craft, and everything from crusty french bread to salami to murder victims would be sliced just that much better than before he came to town. Oh yes. This was totally going to happen.
One day, Dave was wandering down the street muttering to himself, as he often did, with a twig stuffed in his ear that was shaped just enough like a Bluetooth headset that people wouldn't look at him as strangely if they weren't looking too closely. None of it was intelligible, but he liked to think it was important, and couldn't seem to stop himself anyway. He passed a guy who was also muttering to himself. Their eyes met, and they both realized neither of them were talking to anyone at all. They both smiled knowingly, and walked into the nearest convenience store to shoplift a case of Pabst.
As it turned out, the store was completely out of Pabst, so they shoplifted a case of Keystone Light instead. The other fellow lived in a nearby high-rise apartment building, in a smallish studio apartment, where he split the rent with four other guys. None of them spoke any English, which was convenient, on account of all the muttering. They decided to go back to the apartment to see what was going on, and since the store owner had called the police when Dave leapt over the counter to steal a box of condoms and a nice looking red travel coffee mug with a spout cap, they needed a place to lay low.
They frantically dashed for the apartment building, but not before Dave managed to down an entire can of Keystone. He politely discarded the empty outside of the doors. Once inside, they got into one of the elevators. The door took practically forever to close, and Dave cracked another Keystone and started drinking as quickly as possible; if he was getting arrested, damnit, he was going to be drunk when it happened. The elevator doors opened, and he discarded the second empty on his way out the door, nearly knocking over a pretty girl with an impossibly tiny dog who was getting in.
As it turns out, they'd gotten off on the wrong floor. Dave muttered something, and the other fellow grunted in response. They got back on the elevator and went to the right floor. Dave opened a third beer, which he promptly fumbled and dropped, basting the entire elevator, as well as his pants, in beer. If he was getting arrested, damnit, he was going to be drunk and soaked in cheap beer when it happened. He set the nice looking red travel coffee mug with the spout cap down in the corner and tried to brush some of the excess beer off of his pants.
Still no sign of the police.. maybe that panicked dash was for nothing. They entered the apartment, and climbed over mounds of empty pizza boxes and bags of trash (the trash chute was perpetually broken, and none of them had the attention span to bring any of the garbage to the dumpsters downstairs). Examining their booty from the convenience store raid, they still had one, two, three.. a lot of beers, and a box of condoms. Dave broke open the box of condoms and stowed one in his pocket. Who knows, maybe this is his lucky day. As he reached in to his pants to deposit it, he realized his pants were soaked in beer, and that maybe it was not his lucky day after all. He threw the pants in the washer, and they turned on the TV, and watched something in Spanish.
Neither of them spoke Spanish.
With his pants taken care of, Dave decided they'd hidden long enough, and that he was going to go for a walk. He grabbed a bottle of schnapps from the kitchen counter, muttered something, and headed for the elevators. The door opened, and he sauntered in. Two floors below, the girl from earlier got back into the elevator, and acknowledged Dave with a polite nod. In response, he dropped the bottle of schnapps, detonating it all over the floor of the elevator. She laughed, then suggested that he come in so she could help him get that out of his jeans. Maybe it was his lucky day after all! He muttered something and followed her back to her apartment, reeking of excitement. Or maybe it was just mint. Probably. "There was that schnapps, after all," he muttered. He threw his freshly washed and re-soiled jeans in the wash, and they stood around awkwardly. She turned on the TV, and they watched something in Spanish.
She did, in fact, speak Spanish, and Dave tried to laugh when she laughed, but she'd caught on and was laughing at inappropriate times just to entertain herself at his expense. She locked eyes with him, and asked him what seemed to be a very interesting question, but it wasn't in English. Just then, the dryer buzzed, and Dave went to retrieve his pants, and put them back on. The right leg was all inside-out, so he slipped his arm in there and grabbed the cuff, then expertly yanked it back into place, which flung a very bedraggled condom package directly at the girl; it landed right at her feet.
She looked down, then looked up again. Not sure what to make of it, she simply asked him to leave. Dave picked up the Saddest Condom in The Universe, and slunk back to the elevator, pants in one hand, condom in the other. He looked for a rock to kick in the elevator, because this seemed like a time when one should mutter and kick a rock, but there were no rocks to be found. He discarded the condom on the floor. This was definitely NOT his lucky day. He slowly wandered back out to the street, where a passing police officer noticed a man on the sidewalk holding a pair of pants, but not wearing any. The officer approached, realized that the man reeked of beer, and asked him for his name. Dave, being Dave, simply muttered and fiddled with his ear-twig. He was then promptly taken to jail for the night.