So the wife and I went house hunting today with our Realtor. To start out the morning, I had some bagels and my typical serving of coffee. We start out [feeling] enthusiastic about the day as these are some of the homes we really wanted to look at...perfect locations, perfect pricepoints, rooms, garage size...everything. It all comes down to condition of the homes.
First house we go to is in shortsale...you can tell it is too. Carpet all torn up, walls are a mess, the owners haven't cleaned in months and have already moved out. Clearly alot of work to be done, but nothing we couldn't handle. Then I feel it...the rumbling.
Now normally, a rumbling for me is a 2-3 hour warning of impending doom. I could go when I feel it, but if work needs to be done, holding it for awhile isn't unheard of. I release some pressure, away from my wife so she doesn't die from the gas, and feel better. We finish up in the house and I mention to her that I'm gonna need to crap before we head back home for the day.
Well, on our way to the second home, it hits me. Like a piston, pounding the inside of my asshole. I feel the concrete building up in my colon, shredding my insides and demanding to be let out and given freedom. I resist, but it is in vain. This monster, this horrible demon inside of me will not be stopped. I start dancing in the car, sweating as we neared the second home. I see a truck in the driveway...FUCK. I am screwed...I can't go with the owner there. We get out and I am limping. It's like someone took a ten pound turkey and shoved it up my backside. I whisper to my wife that I REALLY need to go. She just looks, shakes her head, and whispers "Just go inside the home if it's that bad."
We get inside, the owner isn't around. Apparently the truck outside was just to screw with my mind. I ask the realtor if it would be taboo to use the washroom while we are there. She says it happens more often then people think and grants me permission. I run to the bathroom, with the turtle already poking out and saying "hello" to the inside of my pants. I quickly drop the jeans and slam down on the toilet. LORD HAVE MERCY! It was huge, as if God himself wanted me to experience the pain of birth. I know it's alot, and I know it's firm. I try the handle for a halfway done flush to make the evil go away. The toilet, as if mocking me, begins to trickle and not release the water contained within. I try again, and again the toilet mocks me.
Screw it. I push the last of the dragon out and stand up. My victory will not be denied! I open the top of the water reservoir, place it against the cabinet in the bathroom, and wait for the water that had escaped my previous attempts to flush be replenished. I know it will require all of the toilet's might to conquer this beast. My moment of triumph has arrived. I lift the plug and let my victory be complete...
BUT NO! I watch in horror as the water begins to rise. A feeling of disbelief, horror, and sudden realization that I have lost the war sweep over me. I pray to the porcelain god to allow me some sort of respite. The water, brown with my own filth, continues to rise. Suddenly, it stops...right at the edge of the bowl. I'M SAVED! YES!
Then the one part we always forget happens...the reservoir trickle effect kicks in. The chaos crests out of the bowl, depositing it's horrible contents on the tile. There I stand, with my pants around my ankles, in a stranger[']s home, with poo water overflowing out of the toilet. I panic. "OH SHIT!" I scream, with no pun ever ever intended. I open the closet door of the bathroom and my salvation awaits me. A plunger. Glorious. I lift my bathroom Excalibur up above my head. The vile beast still coming out of the toilet. I look around...it's me or him.
I drive Excalibur down into the evil, thrusting it up and down, stabbing wildly into the darkness. I knock over the cover, making it crash against the floor. My wife pounds on the door, screaming at me. I ignore her, as more important matters have entered my realm. I continue the battle, brown fire licking at my heels. Finally, the water begins to drain. The monster slowly dies with a gratifying "gulp" at the end. I look around. Filth covers the floor. I wonder if this is how the warriors of old felt after surveying the battlefield of victory
I peak into the closet again. I can't just leave this. This is horrible. I then spot my next weapon, the mighty mop! I mop everything, washing it down in the sink. I can't trust anything. For 25 minutes, I spend mop[p]ing up everything. Using toilet paper to really dry off the floor. I spot some cleaning solution stashed away...I spray it everywhere. I wipe again. The bathroom looks as if nothing had occurred.
Satisfied, I exit the bathroom. My wife is glaring at me, the realtor is standing their dumbfounded. They won't understand what I have just witnessed. They can't see what I've seen and fought the battle I have just fought. I smile with grim satisfaction, knowing that I am hardened by my struggle against the forces of chaos.
We tour the home and love it...everything about it fits what we need. We will probably be making an offer on it later in the week. At least I know which toilet gets to be replaced first.
Moral of the story: Shit before you leave the home.
TLDR
Went House Hunting...and Poop happened...
Thanks for this glorious read. I'm actually in the crapper reading this for my daily afternoon crap routine
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