When I was thirteen and living in Florida, I was very into books. I'm still into books, but, since Florida sucked more than suckitude, I was extra into books there.
I read in my bedroom. I read in the living room. I read on the bus. I read everywhere.
My favorite place to read was the bathroom. When you have eight siblings, the bathroom is often the only place to go for some true peace and quiet.
On such a day there came a knock on the door. I wasn't actually using the bathroom. I just was annoyed with my family and had escaped to read.
I ignored it.
The knock came again. More insistent.
Again the knocking. Louder, more urgent.
I realized I should probably let someone else use the bathroom. The other one might be in use.
At that moment, my sister did something to infuriate my brother who had been knocking on the door. What did she do? I have no idea. I don't really want to know. This is the result.
Fist through the door.
I nearly peed my pants after spending twenty minutes in the bathroom. That would have been hard to explain.