Categories
Flash Fiction Quarantine

The Case of the Missing Toilet Paper

Quarantine Humor

By: Ildiko Kalman-Forbes

May 26, 2020

“Mooooom, I can’t find any toilet paper!”
“Look under the sink.”
“That was the first place I looked.”
“In the bathroom closet?”
“Nothing there, either.”
“Ughh. I know we had some. Let me look around a bit.” Faint muffled sounds are coming into the bathroom.
“Moooom, hurry up please, I really need the toilet paper.”
“Sweety, I am looking. Give me a sec.”
Closet doors are opening and closing. Zippers on bags are skidding. Cabinet covers are banging.
“Nothing. I can’t find a single roll. I know we had some.” Judy slides another closet door and digs into some of the boxes and bags that hiding in the shadows. “Hmm. I can’t find any.” Distractedly she puts her hands on her hips and tries to think where else she can look.
“I really need some toilet paper.”
“Okay, stay where you are. I run down to the store and get some.”
“Moooooom!”
“I’ll be right back.” She grubs her keys and runs out of the door.
“I could swear we had a whole bag. Just last Friday,” she mumbles to herself as she jogs to the car. Distractedly she starts the engine and drives out of the parking lot. Finding a spot at the store is more of a challenge than she anticipated, but finally, she pulls her old Jeep into a recently vacated spot. Someone on the other side honks at her.
She hurriedly gets out of the car. The driver of the beat-up pickup truck sends her the finger gesture, but she just smiles her brightest smile and walks by unphased. The store is hopping. Lines go around the isles.
Judy walks around the crowd. Each cart is filled to the brim with paper products. Toilet paper, Kleenex, paper towel, paper napkins. She finally gets to the paper product aisles, and her eyes widen like saucers.
“Whaaaat?” She looks at all the carts that are packed with toilet paper. She turns back to the empty shelves.
“Nothing. Not even one tiny roll of toilet paper. This is not good.” She goes down the walkways. She is looking for anything that could work in a pinch. There is not a box of tissue paper, not a bag of paper towel, not even paper napkins left on any of the shelves. She turns around and runs to her car. It takes some time and some maneuvering, but finally, she is out of the store’s parking lot and on the road. She is on her way to the next store. To her horror, she finds the same empty shelves. Nothing is resembling toilet paper anywhere. She takes a big breath and tries yet another store. Nothing. Her phone rings just as she dejectedly gets in the car.
“Hello”
“Mooooom?”
“Yeah,” says Judy distractedly as she sits in the driver seat and looks out the windshield with unseeing eyes.
“Are you coming home?”
“On my way, sweety.”
“Ohh, thank god. My legs are going to sleep.”
Judy looks up abruptly.
“You are still sitting on the toilet?”
“Well, duuuuuh. Don’t have toilet paper. Remember?”
“Ohh yeah. Toilet paper…”
“Moooom? You got some toilet paper??? Right???”
“About that…”
“Mooooom?! I can’t sit here forever!”
“I know, honey. I know. I will be home in a few.” Judy hangs up the phone and worriedly stares out at the third store she just came out of.
Okay. What now… there is not a single roll of toilet paper left in the stores. At least not in the nearby ones. I could try to go and drive farther out, or I could… gosh, this is so embarrassing. I guess I could borrow some from my neighbor. The neighbor it is.
Judy straightens her spine and drives out of the store’s parking lot. During the short drive, she is rehearsing what she is going to say. She pulls into the apartment complex’s lot and straightens her nerves. She gets out of the car and walks to the next-door neighbor’s door. I can do this; I can do this; I can do this. Gosh, this is so humiliating. Please, open the floor and swallow me up. Taking a final big breath, she knocks on the door. Donald opens the door with a massive smile on his face as he gazes at Judy with curiosity.
“Hi, Judy. What’s up?”
“Oh, this is so mortifying, but could I borrow a roll of toilet paper by any chance?”
“Toilet paper?” Don looks confused, but he nods his head. “Sure. Wanna come in?”
“No. I am in a hurry,” Judy swallows visibly then forges on. “I appreciate this. It looks like the stores are all out.”
“Yeah, I heard something about that. Just a sec.” He walks away but says over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” There is definite merriment in his voice as he quickly walks away. In a few seconds, he steps back with a pack of four rolls.
“Take these. I bought a couple of big bags just the other day.”
There is no question about it. He is silently laughing at me.
“Thanks. I will give it back later.” She takes the rolls then realizes what she said. Her face turns bright red. “I mean… when I can buy some, I will give you some of those new rolls.”
“No worries. I have plenty.”
“Okay, thanks.” Judy turns around hurriedly, but she can hear a faint chuckle following her to her door. She hastily opens her door and disappears behind it to relative safety.
“Mooooom!” Is that you?”
“Who else would it be?”
“The toilet papers. If you, please.”
Judy goes to the bathroom and hands in the rolls.
“Thank god,” a heartfelt relief sounds in Isabell’s voice.
Judy turns into the living room, and shock runs through her body.
“I found our missing toilet paper rolls. Oliver utilized them as a scratching post. They are inadequate now.” And she burst out in laughter.

Categories
Flash Fiction Pet Stories Quarantine

Reflection

Gibson’s Thoughts

By: Ildiko Kalman-Forbes

May 25, 2020

“Mom, I think I woke up in a dystopian novel.”
“Hm, what you mean?” Judy looks up from her book and watches Isabell questioningly.
“Don’t you see? We are stuck in the house; we are hoarding toilet paper and canned goods. Nothing is open, and everyone is in a state of panic.” She looks at her mother and rolls her eyes.
“Dystopian novel,” she says with feeling.
Judy thinks about that for a second.
“Yeah, I guess you have a point.” Then she goes back to her book.
“Ughh. I am so bored.”
“Go take the dog for a walk.”
Gibson raises his head from his outstretched paws. He rolls his eyes and looks at Judy with extreme disgust.
Not again. We just came back from a mile-long walk. It is hotter than the devil’s armpit out there. Can’t you humans find anything better to do? You either yanking my hair with that torture device you call a hairbrush or making me do tricks, not to mention the looooooong walks. I like walks as much as the other dog, but pleeeeease. Can’t we do something different than go for those extended walks? And always when it is so hot out there? Let’s go when it is cooler. Or when the wet stuff is coming down from the sky. But noooo, we only torturing the dog in the bright sunny weather.
Gibson puts down his head with a heartfelt sigh and fervently hopes that Isabell is not ready for another walk. He closes one eye and watches the girl through his one squinted eye.
Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.
“I don’t want to walk. I want to go to the store, go to a movie, and go see my friends,” she whines.
Me too, pal. Me too. I miss my daycare buddies. I miss our runs in the park. Do I dare to say this? Yes, I miss my training sessions at the pet store. I even miss the grooming.
He huffs out a big breath, and the scruffy-looking hair flies out of his eyes for a second, then it settles back right where it was. His eyeballs are hiding behind long unkept hair. The results of everything is closing down. He turns on his side and stretches.
I could really use a haircut, pal. Or shampoo. I guess grooming saloons are not essential. Maybe not for the humans! Uggh. The constant brushing wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have all this matt to deal with. But I guess I can suffer quietly for now.
“I think Gibson needs brushing,” says Judy distractedly.
No, no, no, no, no, no… No brushing! Please, NO MORE TORTURE! I go for a walk. Please let’s go for a walk. Just not brushing. I’ll be good. I promise. I will let you paint my nails pink again, even if it is so undignified. Pink nails. Who heard of such things? Just no more hair-pulling with that brush. I will leave the sofa alone. I won’t shew up the bed, or those yummy shoes you people leave out to tempt me. Please, no brushing.
“I just brushed him in the morning,” says Isabell.
Thank you, pal. I knew I could depend on you.
He stands up and walks elegantly to the teenager. Gratefully he licks the girl’s fingers, and she absently pats him on the head.
About the not chewing up the bed and the sofa… You know I was just kidding, right? I can’t promise I won’t do it again. They are just so tempting. And I am just so bored.
He sits at Isabell’s feet, pushing his head under her hands.
Yeeeeaaaahh. Riiiight theeere. Thaaaat feeeeels soooo goooood.
Oscar and Silas sit on the sofa next to Isabell. Oscar is an orange tubby, and Silas is a huge ragdoll. Gibson looks at the cats with a sudden interest in his eyes.
Hmmm… Silas is busy cleaning himself, but Oscar is eying at me. I think he wants to play. I think if I go in kind of softly then pounce, I can get him. One, two, three… Ouch, ouch ouch. Why did you have to do that?
Gibson lays down on the carpet and holding his injured nose with one of his paws.
“Oscar! Why did you hurt Gibson?” Isabell yells.
Thank you for your sympathy.
“Honey, Gibson needs to learn that cats do not like it when he tries to swallow their heads,” Judy looks at the dog in question. “That is just how it goes.”
Ohh, of course, no support there.
“But Mooom,” whines Isabell. “He is just a puppy, and he doesn’t know that.”
“That’s why he needs to learn.”
Ughh… I just wanted to play. I am bored out of my mind. Let’s play tug a war. I like your socks, Isabell. Grrr. Grrrr. Grrr.
“NO! Stop! Gibson, no! Ouch, that hurts!”
“GIBSON! THAT’S ENOUGH! Go to your crate!” yells Judy.
Gibson stands up and dejectedly walks to his crate.
This is ridiculous. I am forever the “bad dog.” Can’t you people go back to work now? I’d like to get back to my routine: Daycare, training, grooming, and lots of dog parks. Please, if someone up there is listening. I need these humans to go back to work.