FROM DOC’S LOON FABLES 13
Doors
When the people had finally gone to wherever it was that they went every day, the door to the bedroom and the door to the hall closet picked up their discussion where they had left it, not missing a beat after the sixteen hours of rigid mandatory silence.
“Here’s where you’re wrong,” said the bedroom door. “You’ve failed to weigh the metempsychotic variables.”
“I weighed ’em,” protested the hall closet door, albeit in truth somewhat timidly. “Least I think I did. What are they?”
With a creak of superiority and condescension, the bedroom door explained. The door in the hall listened with all due respect because of course the bedroom door was natural, expensive and maple, whereas the closet door was painted white to hide its piny cheapness.
“And so there you have it,” concluded the bedroom door.
“Wow. I never knew,” said the hall closet door in awe.
“Live and learn. Now what do you say we go make some milkshakes?” said the bedroom door with easy magnanimity.
The doors detached themselves from their hinges and trekked to the kitchen where they sat around the table with the refrigerator door quaffing shakes and in general having a merry old time.
Moral: The strangest things go on when you’re not at home.
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