Tuesday, May 15, 2018

The Stick, The Snake, & The Plumber

Chapter One: Doug

This chapter is short. Very short.  It exists to let you know that everything after this is Doug's fault, He is, after all, the one who had to make a poo.   And that is all of the action for this chapter.  Doug makes a poo.

Chapter Two: The Stick
Since Doug made a poo and has no thumbs, it is left to the human to pick up his resulting "gifts."  Isn't that part of being a decent human? Rule one of decent humanness: Pick up your dog's turds.  It's just courtesy.  -I'm sorry.  I can't lie to you. I only do it because I don't want to step in that mess later.-  But back to the story, on this day, like many others, I act like responsible adult and pick up my dog's poo with one of those those stupid little doggy turd bags and carry it back into the house with me.
Recently, I decided that putting bags of turd in my trash is gross.  I don't like the smell that builds up in there... and why am I paying for a million little dumb bags?  So, I had the genius idea of dumping the poo into the toilet and flushing it.  No stink. No fuss.  AND I can use the bag again, because I am just that cheap. On this particular day, just as I hit the handle to flush the toilet, I notice a stick about the size of my little finger swirling around in there.  I am struck with immediate panic!  I'm shuffling back and forth on my feet reaching toward the toilet and away from the toilet, panicking.  My brain is yelling:  Oh shit!  A stick in the toilet?  I can't grab it with my hands!  I'll get toilet paper... no... that won't work.... a towel?  Gross.... a... aw shit.  It's too late.  The stick is gone.  Ok.  Maybe this won't be so bad.  Maybe the stick won't get stuck.  It looks good in there.  The water went down. Ok.  I'm sure it will be fine.  It's all good.  I mean how long can it take a stick to rot anyway?

Chapter Three:  Snake

Too long.  That's how long.  A week has gone by and every time the toilet is used for.... let's just say, the "bulkier" aspects of toilet business, everything gets stuck.  But I'm an independent woman.  I got this. I pull out the good 'ole snake and go to town.  Truthfully, I'm not even sure how you are supposed to use the stupid thing, but how hard can it be?  It's just a long strip of metal wound up in a plastic holder with what looks like a weird deformed spring on one end.  Obviously you stick it down there and some weird magic clears the mess, right?  As it turns out, that is not how it works at all.  In fact, it is better stated that it simply does not work.

Over the next week I snake the toilet 8 or 9 times.  The best that stupid snake thing does is break up the poo so it can get around the clinging stick from hell.  It's a damn disgusting job and is one of the few times I found myself wishing I had a man.  Then, I can force his male ass to do this nasty job. Snaking a toilet, for those who do not know,  involves splashing and cursing and wiggling of the stupid snake and then rinsing and cleaning and way more general yuckiness than any reasonable person should EVER have to deal with.  It's a real pain in the ass and I had had enough.

Chapter Four:  The Body
On the 7th day, after work, I stop at a hardware store- because I am conceding defeat.  I have had enough.  I walked into the store, find a worker-dude about my age and tell him, "I need the most caustic nasty chemical you have."

Guy:  "Ok? Why?"

Holding my face and body very still, I glance to the side then look him dead in the eyes and say, "For the body."   Oh, how I wish people could have been there to see his face.  For those out there that say I do not have compassion, you are so very wrong.  I almost immediately took pity on him.  It was clear his brain was scrambling around like a squirrel on crack trying to sort his reactions and find the correct response for this situation.  I can't help it. I cave in and laughing, and tell him I need the chemicals because I have a stick stuck in my toilet.

He must have been mightily relieved, because he never asked how the hell I managed to get a stick stuck in the toilet as he led me to the nasty caustic chemical section of the store.

Chapter Five: Chemical Madness
Leaving the store, I now have in my possession a half gallon of some scary shit.  The label says wear goggles, gloves, and possibly one of those nuclear radiation protection suits.  Do NOT look at the toilet as you pour the stuff in.  Put a dish pan over the toilet in case the acid/water/poo erupts (and I ask you, how am I supposed to do THAT and also pour?).  Have ventilation.  Restrain your pets and send your children to the next town over. I got this.

If you know me, you will not be surprised to hear I followed exactly zero of these instructions.  Two cups? Not possibly strong enough.  Half the container went down there.  Bye bye stick.  Bwa ha ha...

The next day as I flushed the toilet and the water swirled higher and higher, I swear to you that I heard, gurgling up through the toilet water, spiteful stick laughter. I did NOT image that shit.  That clinging little broken ass tree piece laughed at me!  Through a haze of rage I thought, "F*ck that stick!  I am so done with this!!" Grabbing the snake, I crammed that F*ker in the toilet and wiggled it and jiggled it and shoved it deeper into the nasty depths of hell that is my toilet.  "F*ck you stick!  Fuuuuuuuck YOU!  I WIN!  ME!"  and I flush the toilet again. 

And again..... the water swirls up and up aaaaannnnd juuuust touches the edge of the rim and stops.  Shit. Shit shit shit.  WTF?  Is this stick made of friggin' steel???

That's it.  I'm done. It's either a plumber or sledge hammer at this point. Logic prevailed and I decided a plumber is the way to go.  BUT.  Just in case.  Let's give the snake one last go.  I crammed that bad boy back in the toilet, wiggled, jiggled, even twirled.... aaaand now it's stuck.  Whether on the toilet or the stick I do not know.  I yanked and swore and yanked and wiggled.  That miserable SOB was stuck and stuck good.  Now, not only do I have a toilet that is going to plug up again at next use that, If I want to use it, I have go ON THE GOD FORSAKEN SNAKE!!!  You know what?  Double triple fuck this.  I-800-EAT-SHIT.  If it weren't for the fact that the toilet's very purpose was to be shit in- I would shit in it for revenge!!

Final Chapter:  The Plumber
After I get through the snickering of the secretary, I have an appointment for the next day.   Plumber dude shows up and I'm convinced he's about 16 years old.   Before he even gets to the bathroom, he looks at his order sheet and I can see the questions floating around his face.  I figure, I might as well just tackle the whole deal head on.  "Yes," I tell him before he can ask, "It says there is a stick stuck in my toilet. I'm sure you have questions."

He answers, "Yeah.  The guys at the shop and I were kinda wondering.  So, um...you have a snake stuck on a stick?"  I can see he's thinking snake - snake, like, forked tongue and slithering.

I ask him, "You weren't thinking there was a boa constrictor or something in there, were you?"  He's looking a little shamefaced.  I bring him to the bathroom and present him with my toilet.  The not-hammered-into-a-pulp toilet that has a long "snake" running out of it onto the floor where it ends in a plastic housing.  The man child stands there and I can see clear as day he's trying not to laugh.  I reassure him it's fine, laugh away, just get the frickin' snake & stick out of the toilet.

He tugs.  He yanks.  He wiggles and jiggles.  That sucker is STUCK.  I confess, at this point I'm feeling a little validated.   He stops and says, "So this is a snake huh?  I have never seen one of these."

Of course you haven't man child.  Just get the f*cking thing out.  "Really?"  I say pleasantly. "Well what do you use to unplug toilets?"  He comes back with a monster thing called an auger.  Okay.  One last mighty yank, a little Eau de Toilette on his face and clothes, and the now mangled snake is loose.  This is one muscly 6 foot man child.  Next he employs the mighty auger and ¡viola!  My toilet is stick free.  At this point, I am feeling pretty grateful and even willingly tell him how the stick got there.

I wish I hadn't because these guys charge $2.08 PER MINUTE (yeah, I calculated it)!  Telling him that story probably cost me an extra $20!!  The removal of a stuck stick along with some ghetto ass equipment a plumber has never seen cost me $140!!!  ONE HUNDRED.  AND.  FORTY.  AMERICAN.  DOLLARS.  Because.... it's $125 just to pull up to your house.  As far as I am concerned I don't care if my yard, the neighbor's yard, and all of my street becomes covered in shit.  It's staying there.  Everyone better learn to look where they walk.

And as far as the toilet is concerned, I'm not sure I even want to crap in it anymore.  I'm seriously afraid I'll get a floater and the plumber will come and take away all my shoes, because there's no way I can afford to pay those guys cash again!








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