Flush people. Flush.I woke up this morning, and as usual went straight to the bathroom to pee. I got in there, lifted the lid, and – staring me in the face – was a piece of shit.
I thought, “Ewwww.”
I flushed it and sat my ass on the toilet. When I got up and flushed, the piece of shit was still there taunting me.
Odd. The toilet paper and my piss went down just fine.
I flushed again.
Fifteen, yes FIFTEEN times I flushed and the shit wouldn’t move.
I didn’t know what I was up against, so I called my mother.
“What the fuck did you eat?!”
She tried denying it was hers. She actually went as far as to ask if I was sure it was shit.
“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the cats?”
“Yes mother, I think I know what shit looks like. And, as far as I know our cats aren’t trained to shit in the toilet. AND unless one of them is severely ill, with I don’t know – elephantitis – it’s not their shit.”
Baffled, I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and contemplate my plan of attack.
I could try to plunge it, but that could be pretty messy. I wasn’t really in the mood to clean someone else’s shit off a plunger. And, what if the shit dislodged from the toilet only to become wedged inside the plunger? That would just be a whole different issue. I wasn’t about to take that risk. Besides, the toilet wasn’t clogged; there was just a piece of shit lodged in the hole.
I thought about pouring some Drano® on the shit. Maybe it would dissolve. Although, it had probably been wedged in there since last night. The water should’ve decomposed it by now. You’d think. Anyway, I don’t remember what deterred me from trying that. I think it was a combination of time, possible chemical reaction, smell, and lack of Drano®.
As I was standing in the kitchen, talking to my dog about the shit, I saw it - a wire coat hanger sitting on the table.
The sunlight was beaming in through the window and perfectly framing the hanger. It was as if God came down and said, “Julie. You are the chosen one and this is your tool.”
Yeah, so I’m a little bit out of it in the morning.
At any rate, I grabbed the hanger, dismantled it into a proper shit prodding tool, and prepared for my destiny.
I grabbed a trash bag to dispose of the hanger after it had served its purpose in life, a can of Lysol, latex gloves, and had there been surgical masks available I would’ve taken one of those, too.
Now, you’d think that a piece of shit lodged in the toilet would be hard…or at least I did. But, no. At first, I slowly moved the coat hanger towards it. I don’t know what I was afraid of. I guess it jumping up and biting me. Like, I said – not a morning person. I felt resistance. I kept pushing. Then nothing. The hanger wouldn’t move anymore. I was hitting porcelain. Well, shit. Literally. I had unintentionally skewered it.
It was like sludge. Superglue. Something. It sure as hell wasn’t firm. Too much detail? Too bad. I had to actually do this; you can deal with reading about it.
I did what I had to do. I started breaking it apart. My hanger served as a sword against the evil poo.
Die poo! Die! DIE!
I think even my dog thought I was crazy. He just sat in the doorway staring. Head cocked to the side. Probably ashamed to know me.
It’s funny how I can get on my hands and knees and clean up dog vomit, blood, diarrhea and pus without flinching. But, for some reason, human shit is different. I don’t know why.
And that was the start of a lovely day.