Dave stood in the lift and thought about his dear old mum, mad as a tree
at times but sometimes as wise as an owl. He wished he’d taken her advice this
time.
Every time his mum walked passed an elevator with a sign saying do not
use in case of fire she’d always add two more times when he should never use a
lift.
His mum had lived in a tower block in South London for a while with what
she called the dodgiest lift ever put into commission; so she claimed to know a
thing or two about the subject.
The first time not to use a lift according to his mum, was when you
were taking the rubbish out. ‘The last thing you want is to get stuck in a lift
for an hour with a sack full of rotting fish and potato peelings’ she’d tell
him with the tone of voice that suggested she was speaking from bitter
experience.
The second time was when you needed the toilet, ‘it might seem like it’ll
be quicker to get you to the loo' she'd say with that same knowing voice, 'but mark my words, you get stuck in the lift
with a full bladder and woe betide you.’
Dave danced on the spot, thinking about that now. The lift had been
stuck for 15 minutes already and he was getting really desperate, he tried to
take his mind of matters by thinking about his mum’s words. What did woe betide you mean anyway? He
pressed the emergency button again. Some wag had put a skull and cross bone
sticker on it; whatever was on it, pressing it wasn’t doing any good. He was
really holding on now; his bladder ached, his back ached, his knees felt weak.
He yelled out again, hoping someone would hear him and get help, but his cries
were answered by silence. Dave looked at his watch; it’d been 18 minutes now.
He decided that if he heard nothing by 22 minutes he would have to wee in the
lift.
Dave hit the emergency button again and all the other buttons for that matter, but
nothing. 22 minutes were up; there was nothing he could do. He turned his back to the door,
loosened his trousers and started to go. Just at that exact
moment to his horror Dave felt the lift jolt back into action as if his urine had provided
the fuel the lift needed. But there was nothing he could do; he was in full flow,
he’d had a full bladder and there was no way he could stop now that he had
released the valve. Then the lift stopped again, but this time the doors
opened. Dave was still going but he could see the shadow fall across him, there was someone behind
him, then he felt a crack on his shoulder blade.
He turned around to see an angry old woman wielding her walking stick,
lining up another shot at him.
‘You pig, you should be ashamed of yourself, you are exactly what is
wrong with Britain today.’
‘But .. but…’ said Dave hurriedly putting himself away.
‘Don’t ‘but’ me you pervert. I should call the police.’
Dave thought quickly, he pressed the button on the lift and watched the
old woman disappear as the door closed, the gears engaged and to his great
relief the lift moved up to his floor and to the safety of his own flat.
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