MacGyver, bitches

Because of how careful I am, I managed to get myself locked out when I returned home from a jog. The only way for me to get in was to somehow hook the keys which were dangling not too far away from the door but at a very tricky angle. I found a wooden pole in the shoe cabinet (which stank like ten sweaty fat men eating durians) but it was just not long enough. That's what she said. Anyway, I had to find something to elongate it but because of how tired I was, I could not bring myself to think sexual thoughts so I searched around the corridor looking for a suitable replacement.

I went through a chopstick and a ladle (My neighbours must be very angry chefs) before I decided on using my neighbour's support stick for her potted plant as the extension with my sock tying the two sticks together. Her plants weren't exactly in the best shape and what I did with their pillar of support is probably not very healthy for them.

The moment I inserted and twisted the key into the door lock, I felt so proud. Then, upon further thinking, I realised that's only because we don't need to improvise much since everything is brought to us on a silver platter nowadays. I predict human beings to be nothing more than a head with weak, feeble tentacles for the torso and limbs in the year 3472, much to the joy of the Japanese, of course.

Then my father returned home five minutes later.