I want to make sure that you, my beloved readers, are adequately prepared for what you're about to read. I don't often venture into writing Tales of the Toilet, but I had to make a special exception to convey what depths of despair I experienced last night. If you're weak of stomach or faint of heart STOP READING NOW.
I came home last night after a lovely holiday party looking forward to brushing my fangs, washing my mug and slumbering. When I walked into my apartment, however, my ol' olfactorys were slapped with a pungent odor. Figuring the roommate decided to boil the intestines of a suckling pig for dinner, I shrugged it off and entered the bathroom I share with him to commence my nightly routine.
The stench was so strong in there it almost took on a shape. I then noticed the throne was filled with the soupy contents of The Thing's bowels.
Let it be known that this man-child is 29 years of age. Even accounting for the fact that he was most likely a late bloomer in terms of potty training, he still has a more than a quarter-century relationship with the toilet and that nifty lever that makes its contents magically disappear.
Assuming he left the apartment with it sitting there because the throne was in need of repair, I texted him:
"The toilet is overflowing with your shi(r)t. Did you call someone to fix it?"I got this in reply:
"wrong number. my name is (Thing's name). No idea what ur talking bout. good luck with that."Because I am technically squatting here-- the apartment management knows not of my existence-- I couldn't just approach the office and request service without giving away the ruse and probably getting stuck with a hefty fine.
So I steeled myself, gathered all my courage and bravery, and flushed, prepared to turn off the water should the mess reach a danger point in the bowl. To my intense relief it all went down. I lit five matches and a scented candle and opened a window to try to coax a more bearable smell into this place.
One more month one more month one more month one more month one more month.