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THE

BATH ROOM MYSTIQUE

By Rita Meredith

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"I had a mystical experience in the bathroom this morning," announced Murgatroyd at breakfeast.

"How stirring!" whispered Sybil. "I had one in the broom cupboard." "How stirring!" whispered Murgatroyd.

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"Tell about yours," Sybil urged, pouring his coffee.

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"Well," began Murgatroyd, "I was relaxing in a lukewarm bath, slightly above room temperature, Unfortunately my thermometer was out of order, so I can't be sure of the exact number of degrees, either Fahrenheit or Centigrade."

"Do go on," encouraged Sybil, poaching his egg.

"But I was inclined at an angle of approximately fifty-three degrees to

the horizontal plane of the bath.

"Would you like me to take notes ?" asked Sybil.

"If you don't mind

Sybil proped her shorthand-book against the toast-rack.

"I turned on the hot tap," continued Murgatroyd.

"Yes?" Sybil's eyes were fixed eagerly on his mystical face.

"Then I turned on the cold tap.

"Yes?"

"And I observed that the hot mingled with the cold to form a harmony of lukewarmness.

"Harmony of lukewarmness," murmered Sybil through a mouthful of mandarin marmalade. "You're a poet Murgatroyd.

Murgatroyd bowed modestly, grew his hair to shoulder-length, and continued his narrative.

"And even as I reflected on this miracle of two distinct entities fusing into one, I myself began merging at a rate of approximately 2.7 cubic inches per hour merging, as I say, into the lukewarm bathwater," "But how thrilling!" exclamed Sybil, buttering his toast.

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"Suddenly I said to myself, 'I am the bathwater'. That was my moment of truth.

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"Shall I begin a new paragraph?" asked Sybil.

"Not only a new paragraph, Sybil, but a new era, a new milennium. I have altered the course of the universe. I am the bathwater.

"Oh, Murgatroyd!"

"The bathwater is me,

"Oh, Murgie!"

"Then my eyes wandered to the soap dish, and I saw with almost unbearable clarity; I am the soap dish.

"Murgatroyd darling, how wonderful!"

"I am the soap.

"How uplifting!"

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"I am the toothpaste. I am the towel. I am the shower-curtain, I am the hyacinth talcum-powder.

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"I always knew," said Sybil proudly, "that you were different from other

men.

"I am all," continued Murgatroyd. "I am in all, through all, over all, beyond all.

"Mind if I use ditto marks there?"

"Sybil," declared Murgatroyd, "I am ditto marks." "Are you really?"

"Yes. I am commas and colons and semi-colons and exclamation-marks and telephone-booths and salami-sandwiches and mouth-organs and yramids and gas-meters and kaleidoscopes and chewing-gum. All partake of my identity, and I of theirs."

Sybil uttered a sigh of rapturous admiration. Then, ecstatically, she cleared away the Murgatroyds, washed them in warm soapy Murgatroyd, and dried them on the piece of Murgatroyd that hung from a Murgatroyd bove the Murgatroyd.

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