At work we have a supply closet that sometimes gets a little scary. Scary as in I am sure that one day I will open the door and find goblins or Richard Simmons.
A couple of weeks ago I entered the 'danger zone'. I was in search of....well....I don't remember what I was in search of, but it's safe to say it was either pink highlighters or binder clips as I have an addiction to both.
Now to get into the closet I kinda had to open the door as far as I could (Not far. I think I heard Richard Simmons scream when I hit his vagina with the doorknob.), then stick one leg in, lean the rest of my body in, grab hold of the shelf and leap to the inside. Needless to say, fat girls should never leap.
Once inside I searched the shelves for the items needed, fed the goblins and helped Simmons glue some more sparkles on his panties.
Okay, so once in you would think getting out would be a breeze. Ha! Have you met Miss Graceful here?
So I grab the door preparing for my whole lean with it, rock with it bit . Fat girl propels herself forward as if she is one of the lords a leaping in the 12 Days of Christmas and BAM!
Have you ever seen a fat chick in a skirt, butt end in a mail crate? Trust me it is as horrifying as it sounds.
Two things: 1) Is my butt as wide as a mail crate? Wider. But with that much force coming at her she screamed and widened herself out. 2.) How did I get out? Well, when I went down my cha cha flashed Simmons. It was his first sighting other than his own. He passed out and I used his lifeless body as a step-stool to push myself up and out. Or, you know, grease and a crow bar.
The mail crate? She had lived a happy life. I bet she never expected to die by butt though.