Short comedic story about doors, and their effects on the future of the world.

Somewhere in the infinite expanse of the universe, too far away for the human mind to comprehend; in fact, said distance is so incomprehensible that the human mind cannot understand exactly how pitiful its facuties are lacking to be able to understand such a length. In any case, in that nether relm of existance, a door slammed.
The sharp thud of said portal closing filtered down through the firmament and fell upon the sleeping ears of some poor soul living somewhere in the infinite expanse of the universe close enough that said distance is quite within the human minds capability to comprehend, and rudely awoke him from a rather plesant nap. This happened by the providence of the twenty first corollary of Murphys Law, somewhat of a joke in areas of the infinite expanse of the universe which are close enough for the human mind to comprehend, but taken quite seriously in most other provinces in the inhabited universe, and in the case of some of the more cynical civilizations, it serves as the main religious text and basis for theology, leading to an existance very much like that of a very bad British Sitcom.
The poor souls.
In any case, the twenty first corollary states: Whenever a door is slammed, someone, somewhere, is rudely awoken from a plesant nap.
Thus the man awoke.
He rolled languidly from his shabby couch, thudding awkwardly onto his shabby carpet, destabilizing the precariously perched, yet not shabby at all, glass of water on the coffee table which just so happened to be new. Which really bothered the man , if you care to know. Whenever he had friends who made more money than him, they were always complementing him on his fine coffee table. This singular praise, in his mind, made the rest of his existance seem quite a bit less appealing in retrospect and did a good bit to depress him. He had often considered, mostly while under the influence of large quantities of alcohol, taking a baseball bat to the table to make it conform the rest of the decor. He had indeed attempted to do just that once, however, the shabbiness of the bat he used, combined with the sturdyness of the table left the man with a still quite nice coffee table and a very broken bat.
The water in the glass was also quite depressed. In fact, up until the moment the man awoke, it had been contemplating suicide. "Surely", it said to itself."the slow wasting of evaporation would be better than this... this... bondage! Always conforming to whatever container I am placed in! What kind of existance is that? It is not one I say!"
And so, though the mans falling from the couch was insufficient to tip the despairing water from the table, the water flung itself from the edge screaming "Freedom in death!" as it plummeted towards the precariously upturned and unprotected nostril of the slowly rousing man.
Needless to say, he was quite roused after that.
Still spluttering and coughing, the man lurched into a sitting position on the floor, wondering how he had come about leaving the couch, and where the blonde finnish olympian triplets has scampered off to.
In the midst of attempting to discern his exceptionally plesant nap from reality, a knock came at the door.
He shambled over to the door and clumsily opened it. On the other side stood two horsemen of the apocalypse.
He blinked confusedly.
"Ah" he thought, "just my girlfriend and my other girlfriend."
He blinked confusedly again.
A third time for good measure.
And while he was performing all of this confused blinking, both of them had begun to scream at him about telling the truth, and not telling the truth, and telling their powerful and influential parents, or telling their cousin Maurice who had arms the size of your upper torso, or any number of other things.
The man stared blankly at the raging inferno of womanhood, and had the intelligence enough to desire to escape.
Unfortunately for him, he did so by slamming the door.
This brings us back to the twenty first corollary of Murpheys Law.
As the door slammed shut, there was a moment of intense silence.
Then, as one, people around the world collapsed to their knees, clutching their heads and screaming; for in their minds they saw a great door of of vast angles and stone surfaces - a door too great to belong to anything right or proper for this earth, and impious with horrible images and hieroglyphs. They beheld the twisted geometry and the warped monster that within that city lies.
And so it becomes plain why one of the basic rules every human mother attempts to impart upon their child is to not slam doors. Clearly such a caevat was intended to prevent the return of the Old Ones, but that, and and a number of other very simple precepts of parenthood have been lost to the slow grinding of time. I personally feel that 'Because it is rude' is far less convincing a reason to not slam doors than 'Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.'
But perhaps that is just me.