Bathroom Monologue: Janitor Saves Mummy

“I’m supposed to be on lunch break,” said the janitor as he opened the door with his security key.

It was a fairly clean bathroom, aside from the mummy lying belly-up on the tile floor. One thickly wrapped and yellowed hand was yanking on the emergency chord, meant for handicapped people in distress.

“I don’t want to explain why,” the mummy said with more pretension than anyone, alive or dead, should be able to muster lying belly-up in the bathroom. It pointed at its left foot, which jutted up in the air. Some its wrapping had come loose and wound up in the toilet paper dispenser. The mummy jerked its leg, showing that the wrapping was wadded up so thickly in there that the roll was stuck.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I will tip you fifty dollars if you can get me out of this without anyone knowing.”

“Fifty dollars? I can work with that,” said the janitor, taking out his screwdriver and closing the door behind them. “This happens to more people than you think.”