Mystery Douche
by WHO on Nov-20-1999

Last August, my friend Jen and I were supposed to get an apartment together. Well things didn’t work out as planned and Jen had to move out almost as soon as she moved in. So I got another friend of mine, Heather to take her place. Soon after all this happened, I noticed that there was a used douche sitting on a shelf in my medicine cabinet. Suddenly, I had a major dilemma on my hands: I had no idea whose douche it was!

Obviously, this douche really grossed me out, but at the same time I wasn’t to keen on the idea of confronting my friends. What was I supposed to say? “Hey move your douche out of the medicine cabinet, you sick fuck!” I didn’t even know whose it was! I thought about just throwing it away and quickly scratched that idea. The last thing I needed was Heather pounding on my door one morning, screaming, “What did you do with my douche? I was going to USE that!”

So I just left it and prayed none of my company would go snooping through my cabinets. Day by day, curiosity gnawed at my entrails. Whose douche was it? Jen’s or Heather’s? Heather’s or Jen’s?

Well just recently, I kicked Heather’s degenerate ass out. The whole reason I let her move in was because I wanted to help her get her life together. She had a son to support and was desperately lacking the means to do it. We figured she could move in with me, live cheaply, find a better job (she was working at Walmart), and maybe get some additional schooling. BIG MISTAKE.

What I didn’t realize is that Heather had no intention of bettering herself. The ONLY reason she wanted to move out of her parents house was because they were making it hard for her to slut around and pawn her poor son off on anyone gullible enough to offer free baby-sitting (including me). In the entire 7 months she lived with me (or shall I say: off of me), she rarely contributed to ANY of the bills, was rude to my guests, let her lazy-ass boyfriend move in without even asking me (he got fired from BURGER KING), and got knocked up AGAIN. One day, I just snapped. I realized that even God only helps those who help themselves! I’m only 21 years old. I have a hard enough time taking care of myself, let alone a family of four! Besides, I wanted to find out whose douche that was…

Well moving day for Heather came and went. On my way home from work, I dropped by her place of employment and retrieved the keys to my apartment. I gassed it all the way home, screeched into my driveway, bolted into my house, scampered up the stairs, and flung open the door to my medicine cabinet.

The douche was still there.

To this day, I still have no idea if the douche was Jen’s or Heather’s. And since I don’t have the balls to ask, I’ll probably never know. However, I can finally remove the disgusting thing from my medicine cabinet.

Thank God for rubber gloves!



MORE THINGS FOR YOU TO DO

Browse the archives - You still have plenty to read. Get cracking.

Join the Forum - Club Hell is the #1 rated (by drunk Club Hell members) place on the entire Internet for discussing serious, funny, or just about any other topic you can think of. It's safe for work, unless you work somewhere where "fuck" can get you fired.