Written by walter
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Friday, 18 February 2011

image for Orifice

A routine, whether an addition or not, is a regular course of action. Of course, some people believe a routine requires discipline.

I have my own routine addiction. After entering home, I obsessively place the house keys in a particular bowl. After dark, I routinely put a padlock on the gate of our walled house. As a precaution, I padlock the grilled basement door, and before going to bed, I lock the front door and fasten the door chain.

Anyway, last week, it was bedtime when I routinely decided to lock the front door, but, to my chagrin, realized that the house keys were missing. Well, needless to say, that lost or stolen keys can be, in my district, a very disturbing cause.

Before giving up, I looked everywhere to no avail i. e., checked all possible bowls and boxes for extra keys; the keys had mysteriously vanished. At these moments, the best consolation was to put the blame on someone or call it a conspiracy.

Actually, we were absolutely locked in rather than out. No locksmith could be called as the entrance gate was padlocked from inside. Besides, no locksmith would agree to bring ladders or climb the wall. The more I thought, the more disturbed I got. After midnight, I decide to check the internet to find out how to open a keyless padlock. Thousands of sites showed up. Some advised to use a sledgehammer; some suggested a drill. A group of them recommended the application of a paper clip. Well, most of the candid pages required signing up to read the next step. As a matter of fact, even if I agreed to use a sledgehammer or drill, I knew it was impossible as all my tools were kept in the basement. Anyway, all these pages had, at the bottom of the pages, some Google Ads. I gave up!

At daybreak, I was standing in front of the basement door looking at the robust padlock. I assessed that a sledgehammer would cost me a new door and a builder's job. Hopelessly, tried to remember, step-by-step, what I had done before loosing my valuable keys. The last thing I remembered was that it had begun raining, and I had to rush into the basement to grab a raincoat.

At this moment, my intuition came up like a lightening, suggesting that the keys must be in the pocket of the raincoat. Additionally, I recalled that the window to the basement door had a soft latch. The problem was how to open the grilled window. Anyway, whether logic or intuition, I picked up a shovel, placed the handle on the window, and pushed it hard. The window wide opened. I could not believe my eyes. The raincoat was hanging in reachable distance. Carefully pulled it out. Oh, boy! The heavy keys were palpable!

Now, I remembered the internet pages I had visited earlier, advising to hold the padlock in the palm of one hand and the opening tool in another hand. At this moment, I was keenly focusing on the keyway. Perhaps due to the visual effects of the Ads, I visualized a photo: ample round buttocks of a female in faded gleans with a darker double-stitch seam in the middle, while I was holding the device in my other hand and fervently fumbling for the orifice.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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