Flush21 July 2016
Thursday, today, is the first day since Tuesday during which I’ve been able to sit down on the gents toilet at work* without first carefully examining the contents of the bowl.
I must explain…
Tuesday, I lifted the lid to be greeted by a mass of toilet paper. Not excessive, not potentially a blocker or an overflower, no.
So I flushed. Big mistake. BIG mistake. The water rose, it rose, it continued to rise, then thankfully subsided. Then continued to subside, almost as the precursor to something awful seen only in the movies or the darkest corners of a fertile imagination.
And then, then a gurgle as the paper passing through the pipe relinquished its grip on the partial vacuum behind.
Drawn, my gaze was, to the spectacle of a rushing back, then a parting of the waters as a great thing, a positive (albeit brown) Leviathan, rose from the depths and lurched out of the water at me. And then splashed back to an equilibrium of sorts.
Well of COURSE I let out an involuntary, nervous giggle! Things popping out; not the kind of thing I’m comfortable with in the gents at work.
I… yeah, there was someone in the cubicle one-removed from from my very real predicament. They remained quiet throughout.
Lo! The turd sat, becalmed, looking almost accusingly at me. ‘Turd’ has become a pejorative in recent years. This one though, this one commanded respect.
Lets face it, if I couldn’t be flushed after at least two attempts I too would be a bit miffed. A dismissive ‘Only human, it is.’ was all I heard.
I folded a few sheets of toilet paper and had another go.
Er… stubborn, this one was!
Sod it, I know when I’m beaten! I didn’t sit, instead backed out of the cubicle, washed my hands and left.
*We have more than one toilet of course, but I’m not identifying which for reasons of retaining confidentiality in the workplace.