The Problem

The problem wasn't when our dishwasher started sounding like an airplane from World War II.

The problem was when it started fire-bombing Dresden.

Oh, How I miss Old Timey Times

I really wish I lived back during History, because back then war used to be a lot more fun. Nowadays, war's all commercial and about killing people, and just getting oil and stuff. But back during History, war used to be a party. Take the Civil War, for example. If you hopped in a time machine and went there, you'd see flags, banners, and musical instruments. Talk about fanfare! I think even the Shriners were stopped by sometimes. You wouldn't know if you were watching a parade or observing the Battle of Antietam!

The general guy would give a pep talk and he'd be like: "Men, you're fighting for your lives. So you'll need your courage and a trumpet." War was mostly just a big junior varsity football game of honor back then, (during History).

I'm glad our leaders didn't live back during History though, because then I'd be scared to be a musician. What if someone didn't like my band? Well then, they'd probably just say my instruments were intended for war, and declare me a threat to national security. "We've discovered stores of drums, and our experts suspect they've been conducting a coronet-testing program for some time!" Also, they would say that the only kind of "King," B.B. could be was a King of Terror.

Still, it would only be dangerous for some musicians. Only certain instruments seem to be associated with violence: drums, flutes, horns…well basically anything that's percussion and all the wind instruments. Except the obo. Because ain't nobody fuckin' with a man who has an obo.

I wonder if they field tested other instruments back then. Like one day you'd be at your village minding your own business and suddenly Vikings would be ravaging the crap out of your hut while banging on xylophones. Or maybe sometime you'd be caravaning with your silk on the Mongolian plains and then Genghis Kahn would suddenly attack you with his ska band.

Rumor has it that Sun Tszu's, "Art of War," was actually inspired by his love for British trip-hop, but I don't know if that's true. All I know is that's why I really wish I lived back during History.

The Showdown

Eureka! We have toilet paper! The amazing sight before his eyes, that of two-ply rolled around a cardboard cylinder would have been much less astounding at most times of his life. These were special circumstances, however.

For the past two and a half weeks, Josh and his roommate had been locked in a bitter struggle over who would purchase replacement for that long forgotten roll, a roll which now seem to have existed only in the distant past.

Indeed, the previous occupant of the spindle – a wall mounted servant to King John – was now the stuff of legend. "Four ply she was, a roll that stretched farther than even a horse could travel between two moons. And soft. Soft as a lover's bosom." At least that was how Josh remembered back when he and his roommate had been blessed with such silken finery.

This fierce drought had taken its toll. For half a month, Josh had treated his own bathroom strictly as a place for showering and liquid relief. He was careful that the two tasks never mixed, and prayed daily that his roommate maintained a similar policy.

Now though, he'd finally be able to use this room of his two bedroom flat to his full advantage. The possibilities, while certainly not endless, had obviously increased. Best of all, he was the clear victor in the cold war of toilet paper. Last night the other man must have blinked, or wiped, he thought, as the roll was nearly finished.

"It doesn't matter though," thought Josh while finishing his business, still needing a few more squares to be truly satisfied with his work. "I've won. Score one for the red team!" Josh had no particular reason for his affinity for the phrase "red team," but this didn't matter.

Now in all his "red team not wanting to purchase community bathroom supplies out of simple principle" glory, he looked to the top shelf for the rest of the now opened tissue products. But only disappointment followed.

He examined the single slip of paper with its glum message:


-Josh
didn't have time to tell you. ganked half a roll from Allison downstairs. We really need more when you get a chance.

-Rob

Great. What now? He crumpled the green slip of paper and looked down at his hands. Fortunately, frustration had provided his answer.