Fifth Floor Boys' Bathroom to Room 516, Saturday Morning
At 11:22 AM, anyone in or around the boys' bathroom on the fifth floor might potentially hear a really lovely rendition of The Carpenters' "Close To You" being crooned out in the shower by a perfectly content Roscoe Kaan.
By 11:25, Roscoe was out of the shower and his disposition was changing rapidly since, as it turns out, all his clothes were missing from the hook where he'd stored them. And so was his towel.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," he swore. This had to be hazing, right? If it was hazing, it was pretty unoriginal.
Fortunately, Roscoe wasn't self-conscious about nudity. He swiped his toiletries from the shower, used a paper towel from the sink to dry his face off, and paraded out of the bathroom into his room.
Not running. Not even walking quickly. He figured whoever had taken his stuff was waiting for a show and he was perfectly fine with delivering.
[[some SP likely as I'm heading to a museum but open!]]
By 11:25, Roscoe was out of the shower and his disposition was changing rapidly since, as it turns out, all his clothes were missing from the hook where he'd stored them. And so was his towel.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," he swore. This had to be hazing, right? If it was hazing, it was pretty unoriginal.
Fortunately, Roscoe wasn't self-conscious about nudity. He swiped his toiletries from the shower, used a paper towel from the sink to dry his face off, and paraded out of the bathroom into his room.
Not running. Not even walking quickly. He figured whoever had taken his stuff was waiting for a show and he was perfectly fine with delivering.
[[some SP likely as I'm heading to a museum but open!]]