BinLeenk: His Humor Writings

Rufus’s Doorman

“Doors are taken for granted, god damn it!” explained the doorman.

“Great. Another professional going on and on about their profession,” thought Rufus. “Why can’t I ever run into an astronaut? At least an astronaut would share a ton of cool outer space stuff.”

“…And furthermore,” the doorman continued, “most people open doors and think nothing of it; like they’re just obstacles gettin’ in the way and shit. Ask anyone who brought home groceries last week. They go on and on about how many doors they had to walk through just to get their groceries home, complaining about automatic doors, manual doors, revolving doors, car doors, back doors, front doors, apartment doors…”

Rufus could only think of three or four doors that really bothered him, and the only door he ever really complained about turned out to be a gate.

The doorman droned on. “…Garage doors, elevator doors, cupboard doors, closet doors, bathroom doors for when you need to take a break between doors…”

Rufus’s doorman was known to rant about every known door explaining where the design originated from and what each door’s main purpose was. This would be quite impressive if  knowing everything about doors was central to human survival and prosperity, but Rufus lived in a world where most people didn’t care much about doors. Because of this, most people in Rufus’ building learned to tune the doorman out and pretend the front door opened magically because of their good looks alone.

“…Refrigerator doors, freezer doors, cage doors, attic doors, cellar doors, oven, microwave and dishwasher doors…”

Rufus tried to shuffle past, but the doorman was in fine form that evening. He held perfect eye-contact with Rufus and was standing in such a way that would have made it difficult for Rufus to get by without being rude. Rufus would rather put up with someone he despised rather than have them think he was rude. Of course, this strategy allowed a lot of unlikely people into Rufus life, and it prevented him from shedding any of them from it.

“…And, if you live in a old mansion, you’ve got trap doors, secret doors, invisible doors, doors made of fire, doors made of ice…”

“OK,” thought Rufus. “He’s making them up now. I gotta think…”

Rufus padded his pockets and found a cigarette. He offered it to the doorman. He didn’t know if the doorman would take it, because the last Apartment Renter’s Society (ARS) meeting voted to create a smoke-free entrance. It was between banning smoking or purchase a new indoor plant for the lobby. The smoke-free zone prevailed, but Rufus didn’t know if the doorman knew anything about the ruling yet.

The doorman stared at the cigarette. He knew about the APS decision, but he was having trouble adjusting to the new smoke-free policy due to his addiction. He took Rufus’ cigarette and lit it from a candle that had been left after a recent vigil. The nicotine seemed to calm him, and Rufus made a move for the lobby.

“You know, cigarettes aren’t such bad things. The people in this building want this door to be a smoke-free zone, because they - like everyone else - think doors are placed in openings to keep bad things out. Well what about the good things in life? Good things pass through doors, too!”

“Hey. I kinda need to get going” Rufus said. The doorman ignored him.

“Did you know you can judge a person by the number of doors it takes for you to reach them? It’s true! The rich and wealthy know this, and that’s why they separate themselves from the poor with so many doors!”

Rufus thought about his goose down comforter, which was upstairs in his bedroom where he wished he was.

Now the subject had changed and the doorman was yelling through a plume of smoke.
“No one says ‘that was a pleasant experience. I wish I could shake the hand of the man who made that door!’”

The  smoke took on a hypnotic effect, which Rufus used to tune the doorman out and pretend doors opened magically based solely on his good looks alone.

Suddenly the doorman disappeared, and the door magically swung open.

“It must have been due to my good looks alone,” Rufus chuckled. He took a confident stride through the front door and made immediate headway towards his goose down comforter.

Meanwhile the doorman flicked his cigarette into the street. He had become invisible to yet another person. He didn’t care, though. He didn’t want the attention. In fact, it was all a part of HIS plan to disappear completely, so no one would notice when he smoked in the smoke-free entrance. Also, if he was ignored by everyone he could spend all his time talking about doors in peace.

“If only they knew how many doors separated them from true happiness,” the doorman sighed.

7 July 2011 ·