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55. The Doors Of Love


DesDownunder

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It's Friday afternoon and I am picking up an old friend's ancient computer for which he no longer has any use. I will give it to a deserving family I know.

At least I would if he was home. He is late. Twenty minutes late. So I am sitting in my car waiting, when I hear a door slam in the house next door.

"Sorreeee," says a voice that I just know does not belong to an Australian outback construction worker.

Sure enough, a young man in his early twenties appears wearing a shirt and shorts designed to show his decorator muscles he must have got for Christmas. At least I have something to look at whilst I wait.

I immediately think that his name is probably Twinky-boy as he walks gently around the car parked in the driveway. As he turns around to get in the car I decide his name is probably Hot-bot.

Anyway he started the car, one of those nice little 4-cylinder cars from the Far-east. Then he gets out of the car and walks up to the garage door which is one of those full-width roll-up type doors in a lovely shade of suburban beige. I watch Hot-bot as he reaches up to a ledge and takes down what is obviously a remote control.

Now I have never had the money for such luxuries, but I am pretty sure this must be a remote control for the roll-up door. It wouldn't make a lot of sense for it to be the TV remote unless the door was particularly slow in rolling up. Then again it didn't make a lot of sense to keep the garage door remote outside where anyone could find it.

Our hero gets back into the car and waves the remote at the door, which sure enough slowly, but not that slowly, begins its ascent into the garage ceiling space.

When the door is half-way up, I watch as the car slowly moves forward towards the door. The bonnet of the car goes under the rising door and just when you would expect the young man to exert those delightful thigh muscles and apply the brakes, the car sped up and rammed the upper half of the now bent and stationary garage door.

It was about now that I realised I was privileged to watch an actual urban legend occurring before my very eyes. Would I see a Darwin Award?

The young man sat in the car with his mouth open. He seemed genuinely surprised that the door had been by hit the car. Possibly he was wondering why the car had been hit by the door.

Slowly he backed the car away from the door, but the now hanging bottom bar of the door was caught on the front of the car just where the windscreen ends and the bonnet starts. He continued backing the car away and somehow managed to pull the roller door so it was bent in the other direction.

The door tried to return to its previous instruction to roll up, but gave up after a another few feet, looking quite the worse for the ordeal. It looked a little like the Sydney Opera House sails would have looked if they had been made from roofing iron.

The car bonnet seemed okay.

Again I heard the door from inside the house slam and there suddenly appeared another young man of the tender twenty-something years wearing torn off jeans and a tight fitting T-shirt adorning his own decorator muscles. They must have bought a matching set, although this one might have paid extra for the super thighs version with golden tan.

Twinky got out of the car and rushed up to the damaged door, touching it, caressing it as one would an injured animal. "Oh No!" he exclaimed.

"How did that happen?" asked the other set of muscles.

"I don't know. One moment the door was going up the next minute the door stopped as I was driving towards it," and with that he burst into tears.

The other young man tenderly put his arms around his friend and patted his shoulder, "It's okay love, we will sort it out, come on."

They reached up and grabbed the bottom of the bent door that was now about five feet off the ground.

I watched as they twisted and pulled at the door. I tossed up whether I should try to help, but decided that as neither of them knew I was there and that I had forgotten to put on my own set of muscles before I left home, it was probably best for me to remain hidden in my car. Less embarrassing for us all, I thought.

Then they gave me an insight in to their bedroom antics as they topped their previous contortions by grabbing the bottom of the door lifting their knees towards their chests and swung furiously like a pair of delicate chimpanzees.

I placed my hands over my mouth and eyes, lest I should betray my presence with an audible sound from deep in my throat. Looking between my fingers I saw the miracle of the door slowly start to descend till it nearly reached the ground.

"Stand back," said the torn off jeans clad super thighed one of the two, and with that he performed a flying Kung Fu leap that meant he probably worked as a stunt man. His foot landed in the middle of the dent in the door.

He bounced off the now straightened door and fell to the ground. His friend rushed to his side, "Are you alright?"

He knelt down and placed his friend's head in the folds of his lap, right on his very thin shorts.

I was about to reach for my cell phone to ring emergency. Damn, I should have recorded this.

His friend stirred and lifted his arm to pull his friends head down to him and they kissed in the drive-way.

No, I am NOT making this up.

For some reason I was almost expecting them to burst into song.

"There's a place for us,

A time and place for us...

Somewhere..." *

Slowly they picked themselves up off the ground and helped each other into their house. The door slammed behind them.

A short time later my straight friend turned up. I asked if he knew the next door neighbours.

He told me he thought they might be gay and that they were accident prone.

"No shit!" said I.

"Yes," he said, "they've only been there a week and last Tuesday one of them drove over the rubbish bin. I don't expect them to last the month out."

"I don't know about that," I said, "They seem quite resourceful and very much in love."

* Yes I know its West Side Story...again, but it did happen in an Adelaide Western Suburb.

Edit: Tidying up the writing.

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Frankly, Des, I thought YOU were going to break into song. That was truly delightful, and I only got the verbal description, not the full visual effect. Awesome. Totally.You know that the reason the door stopped was the photocell safety system was activated when his front wheel passed by it, right? You know, it might be fun for you to help teach them about such things.

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Frankly, Des, I thought YOU were going to break into song. That was truly delightful, and I only got the verbal description, not the full visual effect. Awesome. Totally.You know that the reason the door stopped was the photocell safety system was activated when his front wheel passed by it, right? You know, it might be fun for you to help teach them about such things.
I doubt i will get the opportunity Trab. My friend is moving, that is why I was picking up his old unwanted computer. Besides which I think the boys are having way too much fun working out their lives together without me trying to give them lectures on electronic detection systems.I might be tempted to show them West Side Story though, but I rather suspect they have already seen it. :wav::wav:
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Awww, that is so sweet *swoooon*.*cough*But I think they should probably just... put up the garage door themselves. it would probably help further develop those 'muscles'. ;)Maddy

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:lol: :p Wonderful story, Des. Why do I have this image of a garage door being crumpled and flattened back out like tinfoil, er, alumin(i)um foil? That could be useful from time to time. Extra decorator muscles are optional. I kinda prefer the garden variety guy to the extra lumpy, but the primary requirements are brains and personality. Alas, I have no ready-to-wear muscles, despite a liking for spinach. I missed out when they called the line (queue) for athletic ability. Oh sorry, somehow, that turned into a wishlist. Ahem. Well, I hope the two young guys are doing fine. I hope they don't have irreconcilable differences with their garage and car.
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Thanks for the comments everyone.The boys live some distance from me in an area I don't very often visit. Should I come across them however in a new adventure of domestic bliss, I will certainly write it up for you all. :lol:

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That was so romantic!!! :lol: :lol: What happened to the digicam? :lol:
As a technical man of the cinema and theatre I am embarrassed to admit that I am still trying to work out how my fingers can possibly operate the micro-buttons on the damn phone-camera thingy. It seems every time I press a button on the phone it wants to send or receive a message to or from someone to whom I have not been formally introduced. How rude is that? :lol:
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With your charm and grace and dissembling ability, I'm sure you'll be friends in no time and be invited over for tea. Remember the witticism, a stranger is simply a friend you've yet to meet. For you, it should be easy to turn dialing incompetence into an asset.C

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With your charm and grace and dissembling ability, I'm sure you'll be friends in no time and be invited over for tea. Remember the witticism, a stranger is simply a friend you've yet to meet. For you, it should be easy to turn dialing incompetence into an asset.C
Des, how were the "assets" BTW?
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