cmp.2009.07.21: Just because people don't like it when I "mean" too much.
ed.2009.08.09.02 (First Draft)
I might as well entertain myself while I plunge. Maybe I could talk to myself. Though, if I am going to talk to myself again, I will need a good topic, I don't want to bore myself. The question really is which Me to talk to. Obviously, Present Me doesn't seem very interesting to talk to. Present Me is too busy pontificating the finer points of vulcanized rubber toilet plungers and the efficiencies of their new-fangled long tapered ends. Perhaps if Present Me were more agile at depositing rather large foreign objects into toilet bowls that have previously been considered under questionable spiritual influence, then Present Me would not be trying to leverage my weight with my left foot up on the side of the bathtub.
Though, I am not really sure if I am gaining any certain advantage other than keeping my pinky toe from frolicking out of its untended peep hole at the tip of my sock. My right foot, though, is hopelessly sopping wet—however, it is without the fret of vulnerable appendages deciding to wander off and explore the wonderful depths of toilet water and the floating pieces of rotting vegetables and cheese. Past Me would be helpful right about now:
Past Me, would you be so kind as to enlighten me regarding the highly delicate situation that I have happened upon?"
Well, Present Me, Have you considered the stir fry that you had made four nights ago? (Your time, of course.)
Of course I remember. I lightly steamed the veggies first. The vegetables were snuggly cradled in the top of the steamer, the bits of broccoli and carrots bespeckled with the occasional hacked off morsel of garlic. A little pepper, oregano and not too much salt. In the end, I tossed them into the frying pan with some sliced chicken breast. And for the finish, I sprinkled cheese on top. But, little Boy didn't like it.
Oh no he didn't.
You can say that again.
You mean, I can say that again.
Of course, sorry about that--Oh no, he didn't.
Quite right. I try again: A flush, a thrust, a swirl—will it gurgle? Oh no!
Fight or Flight?
Forgetting the wet sopping towel around the base of the bowl, I set my left foot onto it as I kneel and reach for the "turn-the-water-off-as-fast-as-I-can" valve. I wonder at my proficiency in plumbing terminology. My little toe rubs against the tag of the now dully white towel. I wonder absently if the tag had warned me to not take it off with some daring threat. I jerk my foot away and prop it back up on the tub.
It won't make any difference any more. Trust me, if you keep doing this, you'll be here for a while.
Future me? Is that you?
Yes, and honestly, you are lucky that Boy found his wad of paper-towel-wrapped veggies and decided to flush them. In a different future timeline, he forgets that he hid them in the drawer under the stove. Trust me, it will have had gotten a little foul, and for weeks you won't be able to figure it out. He will have had put the wad in that small pan you never use.
Ooh, Boy is getting quite clever at this. I am going to have to remember that next time I give him veggies. Well, this is going to take a while. I might as well put my back into it.
So, I turn facing away from the toilet, straddling it from above. Technically, it's called the reverse plunge. My little brother said that he once had to resort to this technique. Apparently, due to the massively random nature of the food his girlfriend cooked for him, (apparently in her affectionate desire to prove her culinary skills), his body had developed quite a bit of lean muscle mass to support this particular position. Well, I know my food isn't very good, and I also know that I have spent an awful lot of quality time in this position, so perhaps I will have better leverage too.
"Excuse me? I knocked and …" The maintenance man stared from the bathroom door with a plumbing snake in his hand. His earlobes seemed to twitch.
Oh for crying out loud! Past Me! What in the world?
Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, Future me told me to call maintenance. He mentioned something about saving us the back trouble in the future.
Appendix:
1. Where did the idea come from?
I was contemplating string theory, and kids. A random toilet thought jumped in, and I was kind of hungry at the moment. It was really late. And, I wanted someone to talk to; so, I thought I might be good sport. I do remember hiding my veggies in a very similar manner. And I do remember forgetting them and the foul, very unpleasant odor that led our dog to find them.
2. How many drafts of the story did I write?
I have no idea what a draft is. But, I did edit a bit. I had to slice out a bit, which was mainly the first paragraph trying to figure out which Me to talk to, past, present or future. Really, it wasn't that interesting, and usually never is. These conversations can be quite tedious at times, and so I removed it to spare my reader, (and to fit my story in five pages). Ahem.
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