Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

In yet another crazy holiday story, the aforementioned title held very true for me. It was the day after Christmas, and Mary-Jane's parents were having their holiday dinner that evening, along with a gift card exchange for all the adults. Dinner had already been eaten, and the house was full with her parents, myself, Mary-Jane, our two nephews, her uncle, her sister, her sister's shack-up, and his two kids...and oh yeah, Frosty too. Needless to say it was a full house, and Mary-Jane and her sister decided to run into town for a couple of hours. Normally I am very comfortable around MJ's parents, and even her nephews, but without her sister there, the man she's living with and his kids and Uncle Harry combined for one of the most uncomfortable stare out into space moments I've ever been a part of. The kids were playing and yelling, the TV was on, but no one had anything to say. I found it best to stay secluded from the occasional redneck comments and set up shop playing solitaire at the dining room table. Six other people in the room, and I opt for solitaire...yeah, it was that kind of crowd.

Anywho, after about four rounds of solitaire, nature called, so I moseyed on over to the bathroom, and upon lifting the lid, I was greeted with the remainder of someone else's business. The whole shabang, as if they didn't even flush. But, being the unsuspecting (and stupid) person I am, I figured "hey, I'll just flush it down, no big deal." Correction: Incredibly Big Deal!

I quickly realized that the twosie was going nowhere, but the water was filling the bowl at an alarming rate. I quickly got the "oh crap" feeling in my stomach and in my mind and did a couple of double take panic-stricken looks around the room for a bright idea. By this time the water was very close to the rim, and I noticed the handle was stuck on the toilet, and I reached and moved it back into position to stop the water flow...but it was too late...the horrid waterfalls de toilette had begun, and not only water was coming rushing down the sides and onto the floor, but a couple of renegade logs as well!

Thinking as fast as I could, I picked up the rugs on the floor and stealthily slipped out of the bathroom and as luck would have it, Mary-Jane's dad was right outside the door (this really was a good thing; he was seriously the ONLY person I wanted to see right then, because I knew he wouldn't make a big deal). I leaned over to him and said under my breath, 'I need a plunger in here.' No questions asked, he said okay, and went to find it. Unfortunately, he did not know where it was, so he had to asked Mary-Jane's mom, the one person I DID NOT want to know. I knew she wouldn't be upset, but I knew that now everyone else would know, and she would remind us all that it happened for quite some time after. And this wasn't even MY doing!

She now began to consistently ask, "What! A plunger, what do you need a plunger for, Clyde! What's happening in there?!?!" She said all this, not in an angry voice, but an over-dramatic, panic-stricken way (which of course brought me LOADS of comfort). Now that everyone was abreast of the situation at hand, the real culprit had their chance to come forth and admit their mistake, but NOOOOO, that did not happen, and since this was a family gathering, I was not going to be one to shout out, "It wasn't my poop! Someone else did it, someone else dropped a deuce and left it plugging up the toilet causing the mass hysteria that now ensues." Instead I just held my tongue, not admitting anything, but not denying it either. I knew at this point, it was just better to let everyone think it was my fault, because it would get the uncomfortable situation over with faster.

Anyway, back to the problem at hand...the waterfalls had ended, but there was now a small lake in the bathroom and MJ's dad came in and began plunging while I mopped/toweled/scooped up the water/debris from the whole ordeal. About five to ten minutes later, all was normal again, and we got everything sanitized and cleaned, and the toilet was clear. For now, the storm had ended, and everything was cleaned up, and the remaining household, even though aware, was content with the whole situation being over (even though SOMEONE in this pack of people was the real culprit of the unflushable twosie).

Well, of course the story doesn't end here, but I'll do a second post to follow it up.