Glory and the Porcelain Throne

There comes a time in every man’s life where he must be tested—a time when he must exhibit supernatural levels of courage and fortitude in order to accomplish a seemingly impossible task. Tonight, I passed such a test.

I must warn you now, the yarn in which I am about to weave is not for the weak of stomach. I have given much consideration on whether or not to post my plight, but I finally decided that the world needed to hear my story. Those with small children at home need to understand my struggle and learn from my mistakes so my suffering will not have been in vain.

It all started when Parker flushed one of his Hot Wheels down the toilet. Given my lack of plumbing knowledge, perhaps even more so my lack of motivation, I tried every trick to push or pull the car out. I plunged and auged, auged and plunged, but to no avail—the miniature automobile remained lodged deep within the toilet’s labyrinth of pipes. At long last, I concluded that if the car was going to come out, it would need to be pulled out with bare hands.

I gathered my tools and got to work. After several minutes, the toilet was dislodged from its usual resting place. I carefully tipped the latrine over into get a view of opening. Fecal water began to slop out of the bowl as I continued to lower the toilet; towels were collected to soften the flow of the ensuing flood. When the toilet was finally tipped fully over, I finally caught of a view of the car. The car had been turned sideways and was parked comfortably only centimeters away from the freeway-like main line below. I took a deep breath, reached my up the toilet and wrenched, fidgeted, and pried out …



After an entire bottle of Lysol and two long, long showers later, it’s as if the car was never flushed in the first place. Needless to say, Parker will not be entering any bathroom any time soon.