19-year-old son stumbles in and flops onto the toilet
Toilet Wall: Code Red, everyone. Code Red!
Mirror Wall: He just stuffed a Chipotle bag in the trash. We’re in this for the long haul, boys.
Son: Ugh, leave me alone! I need to concentrate.
Picture Wall: Then don’t start playing Tiny Wings this time. Last time you were here for half an hour.
Mirror Wall: We nearly died of suffocation.
Son: This is my bathroom and I’ll take however long I want.
Toilet Wall: At least give us a courtesy flush.
Son: Just give me a little privacy.
Picture Wall: I have an idea. Have your dad build an outhouse in the backyard. Win-win.
Son: It’s the middle of the winter. I’d freeze to death.
Mirror Wall: Better than suffocating to death.
Son: Look, no one’s enjoying this. But the sooner you quit bugging me the faster I’ll be.
Toilet Wall: He has us cornered. Radio silence, fellas.
2 minutes later
Picture Wall: The smell. It’s… it’s seeping into my drywall. [Keep Reading]