The funeral was hard and frustrating, finally it was over and I(your freshest soldier this side of town) ended the night on a high with as many green bottles and shots my tiny body could not possibly handle so quite understandably I woke up with my head throbbing like a rickety train.

I was experiencing the old fiend called a hangover and to worsen the situation my tummy was a whirlpool of upsets thanks to that godforsaken indomie. I slowly climbed out of bed to avoid falling over my own feet and made my way to my 'landlord's ' room. 'Can I please have the key to the Tango?'(Tango derived from the army phonetics representing the washroom) I asked, as humbly as a thirsty nigga willl ask of a round from that damsel due to the urgency of the shitload (literally) of members within struggling to be set free.

'Just pull the padlock', he retorted with a husky voice clearly not happy I woke him up at 6:30am  (can you imagine what this goon thinks of himself). I moved slowly towards the rendezvous, for some strange reason when you approaching the washroom the closer these fuckers are flying to the opening, makes you walk tentatively.

Finally I reached my destination and gave a pull on the padlock, nothing happened. I pulled again,(this time stronger) zalaaa. I turned the padlock to have a closer look and it gave a registered cheeky laugh...

WTF!!!