Last week I stayed on the top floor of a hotel with the slowest and least sound-proofed elevator I've ever used. As I ascended past floors, I could eavesdrop on entire conversations between people waiting, I presume, for the elevator to come back down. Alas, I didn't hear any sex stuff or teary breakups, but it wasn't for lack of straining.
One day, I heard a small child throwing a hissy temper tantrum. I could hear him from four floors away, so shrill was this child. And so I did what any reasonable adult would do to this unseen child: I made monster noises. As loudly as I could, I growled and snarled, punctuating things with the lip-smacking sounds of my eating the entrails of some imaginary child. The temper tantrum stopped, and I heard parents trying to explain that, despite all evidence to the contrary, there was definitely not a monster in the elevator. As I passed their floor, I pounded on the door and snarled in a rage.
"AAUUUUUUGGGHH!" screamed the child's rapidly receding voice.
I've since speculated on three things:
- What pathology did I just sow in little Timmy?
- How do the parents explain this to themselves, let alone their kid?
- What would I have done if that door had opened? I'd like to think I would have had the grace to chirp "You're welcome!'