Clogged Toilet: Dog Poop

Mark, now sobering up rapidly, grabbed the plunger. He plunged with the fury of a man fighting for his security deposit. The water level didn’t budge. It simply sat there, dark and judgmental, like a mug of week-old coffee.

Panic set in. Mark texted his buddy, a plumber, at 2:15 AM: “Help. Toilet clogged. It’s… biological.” dog poop clogged toilet

The floor became a Jackson Pollock of seasonal gourds and regret. Mark, now sobering up rapidly, grabbed the plunger

The plumber texted back: “Pumpkin or corn?” It simply sat there, dark and judgmental, like

Gus wagged his tail. He’d already forgotten the crime. But Mark knew the truth: Somewhere in the plumbing code of that apartment building, there was a legend. And every plumber who ever snaked that line would whisper the same question: “Was it pumpkin?”

“Goldendoodle or Lab?”

Mark boiled a pot of water. He stood on the toilet seat (for leverage, he told himself) and poured the steaming water into the bowl like a priest performing an exorcism.