c. scott andreas

At around 10:30 this morning, Brian returned from a couple interviews. As he regaled me with his tales of triumph, a disturbing noise began emanating from the kitchen, growing rapidly in intensity. We looked at each other for a moment, then at the “new” dishwasher (which we haven’t used - it must earn our trust).

About thirty seconds later, clean dishes in a drying rack began clanging and a plumbing snake popped up through them. We turned once more in disbelief, watching as it moved along the counter, wrapped itself around the coffee maker, then fell to the floor and crawled out of the kitchen and into the living room.

I knocked on our neighbor’s door and asked if someone was working on their sink. He said “Yeah,” then ran to tell the plumber. I couldn’t hear what he mumbled, but the plumber shouted “COOL!”

Over the next hour, two plumbers ran between our homes, alternately fishing the snake through the pipes, using a toilet plunger on the drain, and ignoring a wretched black sewage-goo that simply would not stay down.

And that’s how our sink became sullied by sh*t.