Archive for Bio-hazard

Sometimes They Come Back.

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 29, 2008 by Buck Frain

There are two things I do in the morning, every morning. If either of them are missing the whole day seems to get a bit out of kilter and never quite comes right.

My routine isn’t particularly complex – I have a coffee and a shit. Over time it’s become a deeply ingrained way to start the day. In the beginning, I’d get up, brew a pot of espresso and after a cup I’d need to go to the loo. After a while it got so that the cup of coffee had to be set aside part-way through and resumed after nature had its call. Nowadays, my morning is pure ritual. I put the coffee on the stove and once it heats up so I can smell it, my intestines gurgle and I have to bolt off for what I’ve come to know as Pavlov’s Bog. 

This morning was no different. Put the coffee on, the aroma like Pavlov’s dinner bell sent me off to the toilet. Mission accomplished, I flushed and began washing my hands in preparation of the almost-ready coffee when I realised something was wrong. The water was rising in the bowl, a revolting tide was turning and the brown trout were swimming back upstream. And there was nothing I could do. NOTHING – I was completely helpless! The plumbing had failed and now I was a mere spectator. How could this happen? That modern miracle that protects us from the cruel and filthy biological reality of being an animal had failed me and I was staring in horror at an advancing back-catalogue of my recent meals.

The water edged up to the rim of the bowl and, I realise now, I was still in complete denial, vainly hoping that it would just stop there. I’d have been happy if it stayed there just so long as it didn’t go any further. It did. I let out what I think was probably a very girly scream as the feculant soup and the healthiest of the trout flubbed out onto the tiles. Sheer panic gripped me, the stench was impactfully violent. Brilliant! A dream come true – my own private bio-hazard! My house was a sewer. FUCK YOU, GOD, YOU CUNT! I yelled at the ceiling. The flow had stopped, bowl still full and threatening, but flow stopped. A miracle? Hang on, I’m an atheist. I stared at the devastation, at the pool of shit and piss and old toilet paper sludge over my bathroom floor. Ew, corn! IN MY FUCKING HOUSE! BALLS!!! ARSE!!!

 

After regaining some composure, I hopped the dry spots to the freedom of the rest of the house, shutting the door after me. Alright, I’ll just never use that room again! For half a second it seemed a realistic proposition. I phoned a plumber, then I phoned the obese, giggling bint that is my boss to tell her I’d be late. Oh, ha ha, Buck’s house is filled with shit! HA HA HA HA HA HA! CUNT! WHY DON’T YOU DIE??? Let me wrap up some of these turds in some bread for you and you can EAT MY SHIT!!! 

Fuck I hate my boss, but that’s another story. The plumber came. He didn’t laugh, I found that comforting, mind you I doubt I’d ever laugh again if I was faced with other people’s excrement every day of my life. He fixed the trout farm in my bathroom. It took him most of the day – a tree root from next door’s jacaranda had taken up residence in my sewer blocking it up and forcing the flow of traffic back to the source. Bastard trees, stealing my poo! Fucking stupid water restrictions, forcing trees to eat shit. Fucking stupid drought, forcing us to have water restrictions! Cunting bastard human race, overpopulating the planet and using all the water on golf courses!  FUCK!!! Ah! At least I didn’t have to see my cunting boss today, and at least my house is no longer filled with shit. 

Be grateful for your plumbing and remember when you flush…sometimes they come back.