A Phobia is Revealed

JJ and I were sitting around last night doing nothing much, so I suggested we play Q&A.

“I ran across these questions on someone’s tumblr. Are you in the mood?”

“Not writing tonight?”

“I almost never write on Mondays. That day is too evil for it. So question one…do you steal the shampoo and conditioner from hotel rooms?”

“Only if I’m staying there.” He laughed. “You?” 

“Only if I open them. Otherwise, no.”

“You don’t always wash your hair in the shower the next morning?”

“I have a thing about bathrooms in hotels/motels. No matter how clean they look, I never think of them as totally clean, ya know? I picture the people who’ve been on that toilet seat and in that shower before me. Long lines of them that stretch around the block and down the street all the way to the next state, and there’s just no way to remove all traces of their presence in what is now my bathroom. There was the sticky kid from Kentucky that wiped his hands all over the walls when he went in to pee out a gallon of pop. There was the guy from Ohio that slept with a hooker last night–on my bed–and probably left crabs that I will discover three days later–“

“–Wait a minute. We’re talking about crabs in a bed now? What happened to the shower?”

“If he’s using the bed, he’s using the shower, and he takes his crabs with him from room to room.” I pondered for a minute. “No one ever uses the desk chair in a hotel room. I don’t. Do you?” 

He shook his head, grinning. “If the bathrooms aren’t clean, what about that bed? Surely you don’t sleep on the floor…”

“Fuck no, I don’t sleep on the floor. That carpet has seen feet from–“

“–Yeah, I get it. So how do you deal with the bed thing?”

I frowned at him. “Everyone knows the covers are full of sperm from previous guests. They’ve confirmed it. And lately, there’s bed bugs.”

“Bed bugs. Hm.”

“So if I’m traveling by car, I take my sleeping bag with me and use that. On top of the bed.”

“And if you’re flying and can’t take it?”

“I sleep in my clothes, all of ’em.”

He held up a hand. “You didn’t do any of this crap when we were staying at the B&B.”

I let out a breath. “I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”

He stared at me for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Too late.”

Ignoring his expression of mirth at my expense, I rather huffily plowed on. “Next question, would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of bees?”

He laughed harder, and holding his sides, rolled off the couch onto the floor. Suki thought he was playing with her and so she jumped on him.  

I persisted. “Bear or bees?”

His hoots of laughter were all I heard.

About Fenraven

Fenraven happily lives in south Florida, where it is really hot most of the year. Find him on Twitter, Google +, and Facebook by searching on 'fenraven'.
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