Urinal Clog 🎁

He took his position, sighed the sigh of a man who has just subtracted $4,000 from a column that needed to add $12,000, and began to relieve himself. The stream was steady, unremarkable. For ten blissful seconds, all was right with the world.

But for the rest of the afternoon, whenever he heard a faint gurgle from the building’s walls, he smiled. He had faced the urinal clog—and won.

He plunged again. And again. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His thrift-store tie dangled into the danger zone. On the fifth plunge, a sound emerged: a wet, shuddering schlurrrrp , like a giant drinking the last of a milkshake through a bent straw. urinal clog

Then the water level began to rise.

Greg chose the last one.

He did the only thing a reasonable man could do. He stopped mid-stream.

At first, Greg didn’t notice. He was too busy calculating Q3 losses. But then—a dampness. A cold, creeping kiss against the toe of his right loafer. He looked down. He took his position, sighed the sigh of

The urinal was full. Not just full, but gravid . A pale amber meniscus had swelled to the very lip of the porcelain bowl, trembling with each fresh contribution from above. And in that trembling, Greg saw his future: the flood, the smell, the janitor’s knowing glare, the HR memo about “restroom etiquette.”