Fight of the Century!
.... Or How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.
For those in the know, this is one of THOSE rants (see also The Hug-Cannon Chronicles)
For those not in the know, I am so sorry (he he!).
Okay, so I get home from the drama reading last night around 10.30 and I head to the bathroom. In the.. 'bowl' is something that can only be described as a Greater Daemon of Corn nestling at the bottom. Seriously, this thing was NASTY looking.
I kind of wish it had eyes so I could tell it off.
For reference I have 3 housemates, but there is nobody around to claim ownership of the nightmare before me. No way I was gonna leave that thing to greet me in the morning.
Anyway. I try the flush. It doesn't help. In fact, the water is draining out ridiculously slowly.
The u-bend is congested with nutlog here people. That ain't right. I drop a shedload of bleach in and try again 10 minutes later. Still no help. However, the bowl is now clean, which helps with the next stage:
Going back to my knowledge of physics (none at all, I'm a writer by education), it occurs to me that by decreasing the available flow space in the pipe I can increase the resultant water pressure from the next flush. It's worked before, so I resort to the old trick of chucking a shedload of tissue down the bowl. If the water can't flow by, it has to push through.
I wad, I flush. It doesn't budge. The water DOESN'T DRAIN. It is a full toilet. A serene lake in which a monster qietly dwells, and it must be stopped.
I take off my coat, shirt and tie, remove hand jewelery and brace myself.
Hand goes in the bowl. Let me point out that toilet water is REALLY EFFING COLD, my left hand became arthritic on contact.
I got worried that my housemates would walk in at this point and see me rasslin' an overflown toilet. And they would think it was my fault somehow. At which point my brain reminded me I was battling it out with someone else's mud-turtle...... GYEEEAAAH!
Thankfully, there was so much tissue down there that my fingers made zero dookie contact, and the freshly-bleached bowl helped as well. With an almighty effort I pushed, and something gave.
The water rushed down the pipe at such a rate that I almost lost my arm. I pulled away and stood up.
The relief was immense. I'd done it, I'd set the little sh*t free. Was this what giving birth felt like? What living feels like?
I was 2 seconds away from raising my arms and screaming 'yatta!' when I noticed that the water wasn't rising back up. The bowl was completely empty. It must have got clogged further down the u-bend.
And that's when I went batsh*t insane.
"YOU F***ING LITTLE @$$MUNCH!! YOU CHEAP B*TCHFACED GOATLOVING GOBBLEMONKEY!! I WILL F***CKING F*CK YOUR F*CKING F*CK UP YOU F*CKING F*CK-F*CK FROM F*CKULON PRIME!!"
I took a deep breath.
"F*******************CK!"
I raced upstairs like a man posessed. Eyes darting. I barged into the top bathroom looking for a plunger but couldn't find one.
There was a floater the size of a tennis ball up here. I stared at it. I went batsh*t again. Then I flushed it.
Something that sounded like a dying beast echoed from downstairs. I ran back down, jumping the last five steps and vaulting the banister on the way. I grabbed the mop on the way and seriously considered the option of snapping the handle to use as a stake. Except that the handle is plastic. And I am not Buffy.
I stared at the offending bowl in fear. The groaning noise was still there.
"MRROOOAAAAWM......gurgle...... MRROOOAAAAWM.....gurgle."
I followed the sound, listening as it ran it's course along the pipes. As it went under the shower the noise bellowed from the drain at deafening levels. I felt like I was in an Alien movie.
Then, just as suddenly, it stopped. Wearily I tested the flush one last time.
Perfect. It was perfect. With a tired smile I left and scrubbed my hands as thoroughly as possible, collapsed into the big chair in the living room and slept the sleep of the just.
Next time I'm calling a plumber.
For those in the know, this is one of THOSE rants (see also The Hug-Cannon Chronicles)
For those not in the know, I am so sorry (he he!).
Okay, so I get home from the drama reading last night around 10.30 and I head to the bathroom. In the.. 'bowl' is something that can only be described as a Greater Daemon of Corn nestling at the bottom. Seriously, this thing was NASTY looking.
I kind of wish it had eyes so I could tell it off.
For reference I have 3 housemates, but there is nobody around to claim ownership of the nightmare before me. No way I was gonna leave that thing to greet me in the morning.
Anyway. I try the flush. It doesn't help. In fact, the water is draining out ridiculously slowly.
The u-bend is congested with nutlog here people. That ain't right. I drop a shedload of bleach in and try again 10 minutes later. Still no help. However, the bowl is now clean, which helps with the next stage:
Going back to my knowledge of physics (none at all, I'm a writer by education), it occurs to me that by decreasing the available flow space in the pipe I can increase the resultant water pressure from the next flush. It's worked before, so I resort to the old trick of chucking a shedload of tissue down the bowl. If the water can't flow by, it has to push through.
I wad, I flush. It doesn't budge. The water DOESN'T DRAIN. It is a full toilet. A serene lake in which a monster qietly dwells, and it must be stopped.
I take off my coat, shirt and tie, remove hand jewelery and brace myself.
Hand goes in the bowl. Let me point out that toilet water is REALLY EFFING COLD, my left hand became arthritic on contact.
I got worried that my housemates would walk in at this point and see me rasslin' an overflown toilet. And they would think it was my fault somehow. At which point my brain reminded me I was battling it out with someone else's mud-turtle...... GYEEEAAAH!
Thankfully, there was so much tissue down there that my fingers made zero dookie contact, and the freshly-bleached bowl helped as well. With an almighty effort I pushed, and something gave.
The water rushed down the pipe at such a rate that I almost lost my arm. I pulled away and stood up.
The relief was immense. I'd done it, I'd set the little sh*t free. Was this what giving birth felt like? What living feels like?
I was 2 seconds away from raising my arms and screaming 'yatta!' when I noticed that the water wasn't rising back up. The bowl was completely empty. It must have got clogged further down the u-bend.
And that's when I went batsh*t insane.
"YOU F***ING LITTLE @$$MUNCH!! YOU CHEAP B*TCHFACED GOATLOVING GOBBLEMONKEY!! I WILL F***CKING F*CK YOUR F*CKING F*CK UP YOU F*CKING F*CK-F*CK FROM F*CKULON PRIME!!"
I took a deep breath.
"F*******************CK!"
I raced upstairs like a man posessed. Eyes darting. I barged into the top bathroom looking for a plunger but couldn't find one.
There was a floater the size of a tennis ball up here. I stared at it. I went batsh*t again. Then I flushed it.
Something that sounded like a dying beast echoed from downstairs. I ran back down, jumping the last five steps and vaulting the banister on the way. I grabbed the mop on the way and seriously considered the option of snapping the handle to use as a stake. Except that the handle is plastic. And I am not Buffy.
I stared at the offending bowl in fear. The groaning noise was still there.
"MRROOOAAAAWM......gurgle...... MRROOOAAAAWM.....gurgle."
I followed the sound, listening as it ran it's course along the pipes. As it went under the shower the noise bellowed from the drain at deafening levels. I felt like I was in an Alien movie.
Then, just as suddenly, it stopped. Wearily I tested the flush one last time.
Perfect. It was perfect. With a tired smile I left and scrubbed my hands as thoroughly as possible, collapsed into the big chair in the living room and slept the sleep of the just.
Next time I'm calling a plumber.