Before my dad added on to our mobile home my brother and
I shared a room at the middle of the house which had a huge bookcase
in it. The room was only about eight foot square and this bookcase
was about 6' long and 18” deep and fit into the alcove created by
the closet. Once while we were banished to the room for some
superfluity of naughtiness we emptied all of the toys and books out
of the bookcase and pulled it about a foot away from the wall. This
created a secret 6' by 1' room behind the bookcase and I loved
secrets and rooms so it really was ideal for me. Matt and I brought
blankets and pillows and a few books and toys back there and hung
out. The problem with secrets is that it is not sufficient to have
them, you have to have the secret and someone has to know that you
have a secret. Then, in a perfect world, they have to be agitated
that they don't know what the secret is. No one knew we had a secret
so we got bored of having it and moved out of our new digs but we
left the book case out from the wall. I don't know if it was Matt or
I who first came upon the idea of saving the arduous thirty foot
journey outside or to the bathroom by just popping behind the
bookcase and having a pee there. Well, it was not all that long
before somehow my mom discovered we had installed a de facto
urinal in our room and she was actually quite upset about a ruined
bit of wall and a corner of carpet she said was 'destroyed'.
Destroyed mom? Isn't that just a tad melodramatic? If we through out
everything that got pee on it in our house we would have to live in
the van which by your definition is ruined too.
The bookcase was moved to another room.
