Screwdriver

I’ve seen a few movies in my day and it occurred to me that I should keep a screwdriver in my bathroom. How do these two things go together? Excellent question. The reason is, in a lot of movies I’ve seen there is always some scene with the hero getting handcuffed to something in their bathroom. Be it the shower curtain rod or the leg of an old sink; there’s always something to get hand cuffed to. So wouldn’t it be wise to keep a screwdriver in the bathroom?

I’m not saying I’m some sort of, “plays by his own rules”, maverick street cop, out to clean up the scum with fiery and blazing justice. I, of course, imagine that I could be. Like all men, I’ve seen myself with the Mel Gibson hair a la Lethal Weapon, running barefoot down some rainy street carrying an assault weapon screaming after the bad guys because they just kidnapped the president’s daughter but she’s really my daughter because the First Lady and I had a thing before she met the now President but she couldn’t handle my in your face justice and had to leave to follow her career in Washington and take my little girl with her.

Sure, who hasn’t imagined that scenario? So that’s why I think I’ll keep a screwdriver in the bathroom. I’d hate to be at the mercy of Columbian and German drug kingpins as they rifle through my meager shack looking for those computer disks I allegedly had that could take down their whole criminal organization. There were never any disks. It was all just a ruse, and thanks to the screwdriver in the bathroom I was able to unscrew the shower curtain rod and get my bazooka and rain hell on those that wish to harm me or my grizzled partner.

Although the whole thing would be blown apart if they handcuffed my hands together around the shower curtain rod instead of just handcuffing me to it; then I couldn’t reach the screwdriver and the safety of the world would be completely compromised. But I’m sure that new sexy female cop will crash in through the wall in my old pick-up truck and save the day. Until she gets knocked out by a strong breeze and then needs to be rescued by me and a robotic dog named, S.N.A.P.S.

I only hope I remember to pack my fire-proof suit in the trunk of my partner’s car because I’m sure sneaking into the bad guy’s lair will be filled with Japanese American terrorists with flame throwing assault weapons.   I’m sure there will be some need for a long fight to the death in which I’ll be seriously injured but still come out on top. I might even show mercy as the ninja slips on the edge of the building and I grab his sleeve at the last second because I’m not a vicious killer. But the ninja struggles and tries to throw an explosive dart at me and when he does I lose my grip on his sleeve and he falls to his death into vat of super combustible acid.

But yeah, keep a screwdriver in the bathroom.