As I dried my hands, I turned to look at my enemy;
that cursed, white, porcelain bowl that stood in my bathroom hiding my worst fear -
The Lion.
Cautiously, I approached the foe.
Eyeing the shiny, silver knob that would unleash the beast,
I slowly lifted my hand,
hesitated,
then pushed the lever.
The Lion roared up at me from his watery cage,
threatening to grab me with his sharp claws.
Adrenaline blinding me,
I turned on my heels and ran, ran, ran;
out of the bathroom,
down the hall,
through the kitchen,
and into the dining room, my feet slapping the tile.
Finally, out of reach of The Lion,
I rested my hands on my knees to catch my breath.
From the bathroom, The Lion murmured his disappointment.
He had not caught me - not this time.