Closing Doors

This is Mr. Smith. It’s about the door next to your flat. I can’t help you open it. Well, there’s a slight problem. You see, it doesn’t actually exist.

Not as such. That is to say, it does. Just not where it is. It exists somewhere else. I have absolutely no idea where, I’m sorry. Could be the next town. Could be somebody’s bathroom. Could be outer space. Yes, you’d be amazed at how many alien species have doors.

No, I’m not kidding you. You are aware that the three locksmiths you called died, yes? So be a little open-minded, please.

Now what we need to do is remove the door from your vicinity. No, don’t try to break it down. What if it opens underwater and your city gets flooded? Or if it opens in total vacuum and the earth gets sucked in through the door? That wouldn’t be prudent.

So. Get me two umbrellas, a can of deodorant, twenty feet of copper wiring, some LED lights, five clothespins, two ladders, and an alarm clock that goes ding. Ding, mind you, I hate the ones that play songs. Yes, and a book to read. A good one.

Also, take an aspirin. You sound stressed.