-WillyTheDeuce-
Well-Known Member
It's not everyday that you run into a situation that is so uncomfortable that it is blog worthy --- but when you do, it needs to be shared.
It'd be a crime to not. So why not?
THE SCENE: A beautiful 9 bedroom house in a suburban utopia.
A very shiny Ford E-350 arrives, and out of the van steps a chisled, smexy bald plumbing technician...he smells of Drakkar Noir, sweat, and awesome.
Me.
My associate, we'll call him Skippy, because he lacks the skills to be named anything else.
We are responding to a call for a clogged sewer pipe.
Mmmmmm.
We meet our client, a middle aged professional woman. Very smug, very rich. She reminds me of "Margo" from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.
Skippy and I begin our assessment. I tell him to shut the **** up, because he lacks the skill to say anything intelligent.
We deduce that the sewer line is indeed clogged.
Margo has an access panel in the basement floor that will allow me to drain the pipe, without flooding the house.
Score.
We begin, and I tell Skippy to not touch anything, because he's like Rumplesuckskin. All he touches, breaks.
The cap is opened, the sewerage flows.
For those not aware, sewerage is anything flushed down the toilet....
Poop, urine, water, cigarettes, sanitary products, floss, drugs, paper towels....annnnd in this particular case.....
CONDOMS
Once the pit fills and levels off, the condoms float.
Skippy and Margo are staring.
Inside I'm laughing. They don't know...BUT I KNOW!
Right on cue, Margo asks; "Willy, what arrrrre those?"
Deep inside, the little devil wants to answer her sarcastically "YOU KNOW WHAT THOSE ARE YOU TROLLOPE!"
But I don't. I say "Prophylactics ma'am."
Margo: "Mwhaat?"
Me: "Yes. Prophylactics. Condoms."
Margo: "But I...those...."
There is some deep thought brewing, now. Some burning, smoke inducing thought.
Skippy says: "Dems rubbers, boss?"
I tell him to go in the truck and grab me a needle nose plunger. Which, to his unfortunate realization 20 minutes later, doesn't exist.
Margo asks; "How did those get in my pipe?"
Now, again, the devil wants to give her a graphic play-by-play revisiting the condoms journey from the packet, to its patient, to the toilet...
BUT I DONT! Because I'm a professional.
"Well, Margo. They went in there through the toilet."
She says; "Well, that's not possible because..."
AND BOOM
It hits her. Like someone just stabbed her butt with a hot poker. I can actually see her head implode slightly...
She grumbles like a demon...
"Regina!!!!!!!"
Now, normally, this is the part where customer excuses come into play. But, there was a truth to Margo's rage like demeanor.
Margo storms off upstairs. I hear arguing...
Minutes become ages at this point..I set the snake machine up to clear the pipe as fast as possible. Skippy comes back with a screwdriver asking if this was the needle nose plunger.
I say "yes" and pat him on the head.
His leg shakes a little.
Margo returns, with Regina...
Margo: <to me> "Show her what's in there!"
Me: <puzzled> "Really?"
So, at this point, the drain is clear. The sewerage and water mostly drained out....except for like 20 condoms...now completely visible.
Regina turns 5 shades of red.
Regina: "Mom, I'm 16 now...at least I'm being saf....."
CRACK!!
Mom hauls off and PUNCHES daughter in the FACE! Punch!! Like an ANGRY MIKE TYSON punch!
A scuffle ensued!!!
Skippy screams "RUN WILLY!!" And jumps through the window!
I contemplate breaking up the fight, but know better. You don't get in-between 2 tigresses brawling!
Skippy is seen running down the street.
I call 911, because Margo is now losing badly, and clothing is coming off.
The cops tell me "You're on your own, bro!"
I run upstairs, write myself a check, steal some cookies from the table -- which appear to be made fresh for an upcoming visit from Regina's play toy...
I leave.
Skippy was never found.
The end.
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