Tonight we had red Thai curry for tea. After a civilised meal - the word 'willy' was only mentioned twice - Paul had revelation. "You know Bam-Bam, from the Flintstones," he remarked suddenly after Chris banged his empty bowl down on the table, "you're new name is Slam-Slam. You slam everything. You're a slammer."This is true. Chris is an early riser, leaving the Kamona at 6am on weekdays and the way he walks and his door-slamming have been a point of contention at most flat meetings:
Earlier in the year, flat gathered on back porch. Paul holds a list. In the days of french flatmate, Francois.
Paul: Another thing I want to mention is your door-slamming, Chris.
Chris sighs, tilts his head backwards on top of couch.
Chris: Yip.
Paul: So far you've been pretty good but it's getting out of control. I can hear you when you walk down the hall in the morning, you walk on your heels.
Chris: Yip.
Paul: You just need to close the door normally.
Chris: Nkay. [Ends]
"You know," continued Paul, "one day you're going to slam the door so hard when you leave that all the other doors - I can see it, like in the cartoon movies - all the other doors are just going to go 'kaput' [mimes doors falling flat with hands] and there'll be no more flat, no more Kamona. We'll have to pitch tents. And you can slam the door of your tent."
To cap it all off the poster of the guru had to be taken down after causing offense to Paul's guitar student, Chris got snot all over his hands at the dinner table and the back porch looks 'derelict' due to Will's new couch/chilly-bin-thrown-in-for-free and Chris' second-hand bike with pink 'Series 3000' helmet plus all the other couches and bits of junk.
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