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I have designed a fool-proof system for holding the Door open!

My flat has got a very determined fire-hingey-thing to ensure that the door stays closed in case of fire, effectively making it harder for me to get out and therefore making it necessary for me to leap from the bedroom window, thus breaking both my ankles.

All fire doors are installed with this in mind, which is why firemen get to climb up ladders and carry people and look heroic.

Normally I can get out of the door okay (when there isn't a fire) and as along as I remember to hurl myself through, it doesn't get me. I would estimate my Getting-Through-The-Door-Without-Personal-Injury (henceforth referred to as GTTDWPI) rate to be about 85%.

However when I am wheeling my push-bike, the GTTDWPI odds drop to approximately 40% for me and, 0%x3 for my bike.

Now I have a weapon. A Bungee Cord... which stretches from the back of the door, to the bathroom door handle. I simply stretch the cord, hook it over the door handle... and the fire-hingey-thing is foiled (Aha!), allowing me to wheel my bike out without even moderate-to-severe bruising/denting to the shins/forks.

***

I am in a rush!

I put my rucksack and helmet on (I do not look at all like an Anorak) and prepare my Gttdwpi Device. Checking that the bungee cord is hooked safely over Doorhandle1, I stretch it, straining, towards Doorhandle2.

Now. The obvious danger here is that the bungee cord will slip from Doorhandle1 while I am stretching it towards Doorhandle2, twanging back at great speed and hitting me full force in the arm, bringing tears to my eyes and unsavoury words to my lips.
But it won't, because I have performed this many times before with crowd-cheering success.

I carry on straining, confidently.

It.Twangs.

Hard.

Owwwwwwww!

My eyes water and I swear. Expertly.
My GTTDWPI device has failed!

Bastard! I can feel my arm bruising and the blood pooling, as I yelp.

I am a Failure. Even more so than Clive Sinclair! At least his crap inventions don't hurt him.

I struggle through the door, repeatedly being bashed in the shins/shoulder/arm/forks/back wheel and limp down the stairs - bashing my shins on the pedals for good measure - with my best Bad Mood face on.




This post first appeared on Toxicsoup, please read the originial post: here

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