A Bar of Soap

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Act I: The Soapshank Redemption[edit | edit source]

Circums walked into the bar. It had been another exhausting day at work. He needed a beer. With his beer in him he could go home to his children with a smile on his face, and beat his wife without needing to stop. But something had changed about the pub. Something about the bar being packed with soap bars and not people made it different somehow. Perturbed, Circums walked up to the nearest occupied table to investigate. Bars of soap were packed round it, talking away incessantly.

"You are all made of soap." Circums remarked.

The soap people looked round at the source of the noise. One stood up, sending his chair flying backwards. He had a bottle in his hand. "And you got a problem with that!?"

Circums was taken aback, he'd never been considered racist by soap before. Hair gel yes, but soap, never. "Uh no, I was just wondering that's all. My name's Circums, pleased to meet you." he said, holding out his hand. The soap man reluctantly shook it, covering Circum's palm with a slippery lather. "So what brings you soap gents to the pub then? I haven't noticed you fellas round here before."

"We just decided to grab a pint after work. Nothing out the ordinary." replied the soap, sitting down to resume his conversation with the other toiletries.

"So I had this guy earlier yeah" began one bar, setting his drink down for a story. "He comes in yeah, gives old carex a bit of a squeeze, then just as he's heading out the door he, get this, he's sick. Violently. All over his hands, blood and everything. And at this point I'm crackin' up, you can tell 'em Jerry." One of the soap people, evidently named Jerry grinned, raising his drink."So he has to walk all the way back over here, caked in the stuff. And I'm laughing so hard I fall into the sink. Now here comes the funny bit. I slide down the sink, and shoot off the other side. I land IN his mouth. The poor bugger chokes to death and the cops pull me out his windpipe three hours later." The table shook with laughter, one squeezy top splurted handwash into his beer. "It was mental" sighed the story teller, wiping soap from his eyes.

Circums now felt a bit awkward, he'd been standing by himself listening in for a bit too long. He decided he'd get himself a pint, find a table and finish the crossword. He was twelve words short of completion. All 13 letters long, hinting at a nonsense based encyclopedia. It had him stumped.

"'Scuse me mate, can I have a pint?" Circums asked the barman, stretching out a fiver.

The barman grasped the money, and went back to cleaning glasses with it. "Sorry mate, we've just ran out."

"No you haven't, there are seven clearly full barrels sitting next to you. And a poster that has "I lied. We have plenty of beer" printed on it in big writing. Just crack open one of them."

The barman sounded shocked, "Crack open one of them? These are paying customers." The tone in his voice was slightly higher, and Circums could tell that he'd offended the man.

"But what about the poster?"

"You can't drink a poster. That's just absurd. And besides Terry here is one of our patrons." indicating the poster. It waved it's corner to Circums in greeting.

This was bogus. A quick trip to the lavvy and I'll leave thought Circums. Perhaps he'd try that new shampoo across the road. It always smelled nice as he walked past it on the way to work, and it's thatched roof was totally nit free.

Act II: Handwash and Kumar Get the Munchies[edit | edit source]

A zip, splash and shake and it was all over. Circums eyed himself in the mirror as he washed his hands, the baggs under his eyes were getting darker. He'd been working too late again.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SON?!?!?!!" yelled a voice from behind him. Circums span round to see the source of the noise. It was a bar of soap. Circums span back to see what he was doing, he'd been rubbing his hands all over a smallish bar of soap, some of it getting underneath his fingernails. He'd forgot the soap was alive. "Ahhhhhhhhhh, feck."

Another bar of soap burst into the room. "Terry you alright? I heard shouting."

Terry was pink with rage. "This joker just raped my son. He was only 12."

"He what?!"

"You've got it all wrong" said Circums, franticly waving at them to stop. "I didn't know he was your son."

"Oh and that makes it ok does it?!" the two soap bars began advancing on him. They were only 5 inches from the ground but Circums was still worried. He'd been defeated by smaller things before, especially during sex.

"Hey come on your guys, I didn't mean it like that. I'm new to this whole soap thing. How about we forgive and forget."

The pink soap turned to his comrade, "This fool don't know what he's talking about. I say we take him outside."

"Noooooooooo, don't do that! We can sort this out!" The soap seem to ignored his pleas as it got ever closer. Finally inches away it leapt at him. Grabbing hold of his leg. "Get off of me! You'll get my suit dirty, these are new trousers. They cost me a mint you bastard." said Conrad, shaking his leg. "Get off!" The soap flew from his leg, ricocheted off a wall and landed in the toilet with a resolute plop. It's friend took a few steps back, aghast at what Circums had just done.

"You, you murderer!"

"He's just a bar of soap, he can't be dead."

"You just killed my best friend."

But Circums had had enough, taking care to step on the soap on his way out, he ran from the place. Not stopping until he was three blocks away. He looked round. Everything was back to normal again. People were walking the streets, human people, caught up in the hustle and bustle of city life. He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Act III: Deep (soapy) Water[edit | edit source]

It had probably all just been a dream mused Circums, now back at home, drinking whisky. He leaned over to his wife and told her that he loved her. She kissed him. "Ooooo Circums dear, I almost forgot. This came in the post for you today." she said, holding up a box of assorted soaps. It was ticking. Circums screamed.

The blast tore through Circum's living room, killing him instantly and destroying his house. Covering the area in a thick lather. The police blamed the explosion on a faulty gas main. Ironically, though Circums had been obliterated by soap, they were cleaning up bits of him for weeks.