So I was outside the guest bathroom on the ground floor of the new boss plush abode. When the girl says, Mommy, this toilets all stuffed up. It has my brothers huge poopy and now my really big poopy and a lot of paper.
So now Im standing in this womans house, having met her not 10 minutes earlier, wondering how in Gods name I am going to broach this subject with her.
I cant just walk up to her and say, My kids done stuffed up your crapper. At home I work a plunger the size of a manhole cover to get their dookies down. Sometimes, I have to get my husband, your new employee, to work a hand-cranked toilet snake to clear the clogs. Youd think we feed these kid plutonium. We dont have water in our toilet, we have a constant flow of Draino!
I tell my girl not to flush. I go in to see the damage. She washes her hands and leaves me there at the scene of the crime. If I cant get this bad larry down, itll look like I did it.
I survey the stew of evil. This is going to take a miracle. Im either going to try and flush it, and possibly overflow this mess on her Italian marble floors or I am going out go out to her patio and wave her fancy guest towel in surrender. In front of everyone I just met.
The sane choice would be go for help.
So I flushed.
I prayed it was a two-stage toilet. I held the silver handle down and watched it all be put into motion.
Please go down. Please!
And with a disgusting garble it takes what I offered.
Thank Heavens.