Thursday, 27 April 2017


I woke up this morning at about half past ten. I mean, I'd been awake already, but I must have fallen asleep again - I was at an odd angle, bedsheets in a heap and my body sprawled out in strange places. I ran a hand through what's left of my hair and thought about what to do.

I stripped off my pyjama trousers and ambled to the toilet; just before I flushed, however, I heard a voice I didn't recognise... from directly outside the door.

This isn't entirely uncommon. I knew we had new housemates moving in and, besides, I knew who he was talking to. Her accent gave her away - she was a lady we know who works as a housekeeper. He must have asked her to clean his room since he's moving in (and the Irish Ladd who lived there beforehand may have left it in a bit of a state). I'm the one who showed him the room and the house and all, so it's really my fault.

At this point, I realised something else: namely, that I had stripped off my pyjamas and didn't have anything else on. It's not unusual that I go to the toilet naked - I do it all the time, especially in the middle of the night - but I assumed, new housemate notwithstanding, that the house would be empty this morning. And I was desperate, so I went.

The result of this being that I was trapped in the toilet room, naked, with a new guy in the room directly opposite the door (with his door open) and the cleaning lady (who I've only met once) talking, mostly, about keys... not showing any signs of finishing or going downstairs, even for a moment, to allow me the one second to flash down the corridor and into my bedroom without accidentally showing off my freely-hanging genitalia.

As much as I love my own penis, there's only so far I think I can take that.

So I waited. Leaning against the door, re-reading the volume of Justice League International I had with me, cursing everything I could think of including my own stupidity, seeing how hard I could flush the toilet, and finding myself wishing that my housemates, for the first time, weren't so social, so that he could just wander off and I could flash past while her back was turned. Of course, none of these provided me a route out, and even if I could have fit through the window, that'd have ended up with me being naked outside of the house with no route back in.

I even considered fashioning a loincloth out of toilet tissue, before realising that I didn't know how to do that.

Twenty minutes later and I was trying to activate my dormant metagene, just in case I have teleportation or superspeed or invisibility or anything at all that would allow me to get back to my room without being seen completely naked, when I heard my new housemate asking the lady, who (judging by the sounds) was douching his bed down, if she had a cigarette he could borrow.

Oh! He's a smoker! I thought. Yes, that was genuinely my first thought - it usually surprises me when I find out people smoke - as opposed to maybe if they both go out for a cigarette, I could get out of here! 

Which was my second thought. And my third. And my fourth. Which became desperation as I leaned closer to the door to listen. And then hope as she rummaged in her bag. And, finally, a PLAN OF ACTION, as they both headed down the stairs temporarily. The instant they left, I made my break - wrenched open the toilet door and made ready to break into a run...

"Hang on, I just need to get something from upstairs, I'll be with you in a minute..."

And that's how I discovered I do have superspeed.

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