H2O

The tap dripped.

Sam sat in the chair, listening to the drops ricocheting off the metal sink every thirty-six seconds. He couldn’t do anything about it because of his broken leg. More accurately, he couldn’t be arsed. The leg was in plaster and was healing quite well, but he still couldn’t get the hang of using the crutches. He enjoyed sitting in his favourite chair, watching TV and being generally waited on. He was thinking of asking the hospital to leave the cast on when his leg was healed so he could milk it for a while longer.

He was home alone for at least the next two hours. His wife had gone to the bingo and he was buggered if he was going to get up because of the tap.

Three hours passed and she hadn’t returned. The tap was now dripping every thirty-two seconds. It was hindering his afternoon nap routine and he felt like he was being waterboarded subliminally.  He decided it had to be fixed.

He pulled himself out of the chair and grabbed the pristine, hardly-used crutches before hobbling out into the kitchen.

He stopped by the sink and leaned forwards to tighten the tap. He twisted it and heard a slight cracking sound. A thin jet of water squirted out of the side of the tap. He tightened it some more and the tap came off in his hand. It was like having a water cannon in his kitchen.

Sam panicked and turned to leave the room. He slipped on the lino, went to ground and smacked his head on the side of a cupboard. The position in which he found himself unconscious provided just the right angle for the water to squirt up his left nostril.

He became the first man in his town to ever drown on a kitchen floor.