I was taking a bit of a dump earlier, having a nice relaxing time. When, suddenly, my housemate arrives home, drunk.
He makes a line straight for the toilet. I hear him coming. He gets to the door.
"Jobe, get out, I fucking need to spew."
"I'm about to spew."
I'll pause here to mention that when I go to the toilet I like to be nice and naked. It's comforting. Don't judge me.
I'll resume here to mention that knowing that spew outside the toilet will be messy and annoying, I do the first thing that comes into my head: I leap up and unlock the door so he can get in and spew.
He runs in and gets to the toilet just in time. He kind of collapses to the floor once he's done throwing up. His spew was pink, I think he was drinking Breezers or something gay like that. I make a note of it to refer to later.
Calm descends on the toilet.
But then awkwardness descends on top of that.
He's lying on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet, while I'm standing near the door, naked.
Oddly, I decide to do a rain dance to break the silence.
I think I got away with it...