Shower curtains were clearly invented to help madmen with axes murder me.
Every time I step into my bathroom at night, I can’t help but watch the curtain out of the corner of my eye. Checking the rings to see if they’ve moved, listening closely for any breathing coming from the tub. Just knowing that at any moment, I could be locked in a life or death struggle with some deranged killer.
Or at least that’s what Hollywood has taught me.
Most nights, I’m not even brave enough to be in the bathroom with the curtain closed. The first thing I do is whip the curtain open, one hand free to punch an attacker (or flail around “threateningly” like a penguin with epilepsy).
Luckily, there has never been a murderer hiding in my tub — yet.
But what if there was? What if one day I open that curtain and there is a crazy man with a knife just chillin’, ready to get all murder-y? What was the point of opening the curtain then? Am I really going to fight this madman? I think it’s just enough to know that I wasn’t paranoid after all. Like, “Hey mom, who’s crazy now? I told you that I was totally murder-able.”
I kind of hope that if there were a serial killer lurking behind my shower curtain when I opened it, he’d be too surprised to murder me. As if I messed up the script to his little plot and he never took an improv class. He would just stand there confused, like, “Oh no. You were supposed to just brush your teeth and then I jump out and stab you. I don’t know what to do now. The element of surprise is totally gone.”
And I’d be very understanding, because I was never good at public speaking and it always threw me off when I lost my place on my cue cards. So we’d shake hands and he’d try again another day. But then I’d just leave the curtain open and really mess up his plans.
I do that sometimes. Whenever I leave the house or go to different part of the house, I leave the shower curtain open. I hope that killer would run in and see the curtain and just pack it up. He’d sulk home, kicking cans, saying something like, “Doesn’t he know that you should close your shower curtain to prevent mildew … and make it easier for me to murder him and stuff?”
Luckily, for now, these worries are purely the product of my overactive imagination.
“The bitch and moan-olgoues” is a weekly humor column that explores writer Chase Wilkinson’s adventures in being socially awkward and paranoid.
