Marl came to on the floor to the sound of screaming. The ladder had landed on his shin and the pain was throbbing, but his main concern was that he knew when he fell, he had knocked the pale of paint out the window in an attempt to catch his balance. He struggled to his feet to confront the embarrassment of his clumsiness. He reluctantly poked his head out the window and witnessed a mess far worse than what he had worried. Paint was plastered all across the street, up and down the footpath and sitting in the epicenter was a women covered from head to toe in it, screaming. Marl announced himself from the window above “Miss, I am so sorry, Miss are you ok?” The girl didn’t exactly respond but chattered frantically for a towel to remove the paint from her eyes. Marl grabbed a bath towel from his hamper, rolled it up and chucked it down to the floor below, which culminated to be a pathetic attempt to help as the towel landed just in front of the women in a puddle of paint and she was unable to retrieve it without being able to see it. “What is she screamed, “what is it”. “Paint” Marl shouted down apologetically, “banana yellow paint”. The women screamed louder. Marl realized he could not do much more to help from his bedroom window. He removed himself from the frame and sprinted down to the front door out on to the street to meet the women. From this angle he could really take in the full extent of the mess, and he struggled to accept that there was truly that much paint in the pale, there seemed to be miles of it stretched along the tarmac of the road. Then blended amongst it all stood the women, and she was lathered in it. Her hair was rung with yellow blobs, there wasn’t so much as a freckle visible on her face, and this continued down to her feet. It was obvious she could not see because when he spoke right next to her, she was almost startled. “Miss I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry”, he bent down to pick up the towel he had thrown down previously and placed it in her hands. He watched as she attempted to use it to wipe off her face, but it was no use. “This has more paint on it that I do” she shrieked. “I can get you another one, I have another one in the bathroom” Marl said. The women didn’t think for a moment “Go, show me, go”. Marl stepped aside to guide her in and proceeded to narrate her through the journey up the stairs to his bedroom where he offered her his own bathroom and everything in it to clean herself up. As she stepped inside, she fumbled for the door for a while, before finally slamming it, managing to lock it behind her. Marl listened as the tap, shower and bath were all turned on full blast.