Saturday, April 23, 2005

Hell Is Bubbling Over for Dinner

(The continuing saga of this blocked up bathroom drain can be picked up here 24 hours later)
“Get ready little lady, Hell is coming for breakfast.”
~ Lone Watie (Outlaw Josie Wales)

The other night, Hell may have been a little late in getting over for breakfast, but it sure did make it's arrival in time for the evenings BBQ! And so, an otherwise pleasant evening of hotdogs, bong hits, and the newly released video of Ray on DVD was interrupted when my humble abode was invaded by a rich and potent stink emanating from my bathroom.
Uh-oh - the gods have been angered!

Now I admit, this is not altogether a rare occurrence in my bathroom exactly – in fact, some stenches from my bathroom have been known to bloom and ripen for days like some beautiful tropical flower – but this particular stench was different from anything that could be produced by myself, or any other human being for that matter.

This stench was purely demonic. It was so large it had it’s own area code!

Upon closer inspection on the stinks whereabouts, I discovered that Hell had decided to erupt from my bathtub drain in a cesspool of dark smelly matter the likes I have never seen before! It was like a Jurassic period tar pit had developed in my bathroom and began to fear that I might find my cat sooner or later stuck in it’s bubbling black ooze and struggling like a miniature furry brontosaurus trying to prevent itself from being sucked beneath it’s gooey surface.

Yeah, I know – I worry too much. But it stinks; it’s gross; and I want it gone immediately!

Why me? It’s like suddenly I have the Amityville pit growing in my bathroom. If I even so much a see a single fly crawling across any of my windows – I’m fucking moving apartments in a heartbeat!

To me, this is the closest thing to a natural disaster that I have ever experienced.

I’m expecting World Vision helicopters to soon begin air lifting emergency supplies to my rooftop, and to find Anderson Cooper camped out on my front doorstep looking for his next exclusive late-breaking CNN report.

“The black tide just kept rising so that soon it became hard to breath – like I was hyperventilating in a city sewer or something! I feel lucky to be alive right now, Anderson!”

Once the initial shock and frustration had passed – I began to assess the situation more constructively.
First, I attacked the drain with a plunger like I was grappling with the control stick of a plummeting B-52 bomber – but that only seemed to anger the sewer gods even further.

Next, I resorted to offering sacrifices in the way of entire bottles of Draino, which crackled and fizzled like frying bacon as it dissolved the initial layers of the obstructing foulness away from the drainpipe and the leftover sediment left on the bottom of the tub. But still, to no avail.

So now, mixed with the noxious sewer stench of accumulated rotten schmeckle*, is this toxic cloud of chemical fumes that could rival anything that ever blew across the fields at Ypres.

My cat must be getting higher than a motherfucker while I’m at work.

And again the worry sets in: what if these sewer stenches and chemical fumes are poisonous and are in fact causing him to develop webbed paws or a second tail or something? What if I come home one day to find that beloved companion has been transformed into some kind of mutant X-Kitty, who is capable of melting me into a fleshy puddle with the super laser beams shot from his hungry eyes should I ever be too late for his feeding time?

Maybe, the fumes are addictive and he’s unwittingly becoming a cat junkie who sill soon resort to sniffing the caps off Liquid-Plumer containers in the closet in order to maintain his buzz.

After these two initial home remedies both failed miserably – I am now at a complete loss as to what to do next. I am now leaning towards plastic explosive and a long fuse.

I see no other viable options…

* “Schmeckle” is a word that I just invented. It just sounds like an appropriate term in reference to nasty, smelly obstructing clots of hair and other drainage refuse that can breed and lodge in ones drainpipes.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Lelia Katherine Thomas said...

I've been reading, and thoroughly enjoying, your blog here for about a week now. This one is especially funny, because I have been unfortunate enough to know of such situations, not to mention the annoyance that follows. My father had to alter the vent traps of something with our plumbing this past year, and I thought I was going to go insane from the various fumes (not all were exactly safe, either, haha!). In fact, I haven't been the same since. :p

If I were you, I would call a licensed plumber. If you feel you cannot afford one, you should perhaps run a search for plumbing and pipe forums, maybe even DIY forums. After all, there's a forum for everything on the web now. Maybe you can get some help from others who have experienced this specific problem! :)

Good luck to you and the pussy.

6:48 PM  
Blogger crazytigerrabbitman said...

Thank you for frequenting my blog. The outcome of this particular ordeal can be viewed by following the newly added link provided in the same post. By the way, where are all the rest of you talented, uber-hot, model/artist-type bloggers (and who also happen to be knowledgable in the fine art of drain maintenance) hiding out? So, I would like to point out here and now for the record, that I am single, have the most adorable cat, put the tpoilet seat down behind me, and am willing to be walked over for the rest of my life. Any proposals then?

Thank you again for the nice comments. :)

11:45 AM  
Blogger crazytigerrabbitman said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

11:47 AM  
Blogger Mister Underhill said...

"Like Helen Keller eating a Benedict Arnold sandwich"

That is the funniest string of words I have heard in some time.

I don't know, I really wanted the pope to be the black guy.

Pope Dirty Bastard I.

E tu spiritu cool, motherfuckers!

11:55 PM  

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