02.09.05
2:37 a.m.
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.�
But, whatever.
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.
And again.
And 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.
