Kevin looked at the bowl. At the floating duck. At his brown-stained arm. He took a deep breath and told the truth.
Well, that’s not entirely true. Something happened. The water level didn’t go down. It rose . Slowly at first, like a science experiment gone wrong, then with a determined gurgle. Kevin looked down. The bowl was now a crowded, dark exhibition of his earlier enthusiasm. A solid, unyielding blockage of epic proportions sat there, daring the laws of physics to move it. toilet stopped up with poop
Panic set in. Kevin did what any 24-year-old man living alone would do: he called his mother. Kevin looked at the bowl
Twenty minutes later, Kevin sat on the edge of the bathtub, defeated. The bathroom floor was a swamp. The cute duck plunger floated mournfully. And in the bowl, the Great Logjam remained, a monument to poor life choices. He took a deep breath and told the truth