Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Day of the Cabbage Patch Turd

Tags: turd, killer turd, Arco, gas station, gas, Arcology, toilet monster, triumph, viral video, Factotum, Cabbage Patch, crapper, latrine adventure, head, gollywhumper

Defer not till tomorrow to be wise, Tomorrow's sun to thee may never rise. ---William Congreve

One of the Davel Limo drivers comes in to the Arco, signs his gas charge slip and trots briskly over to the restroom. He's a tall, lanky man in a black suit not quite big enough for him. It makes him look like a black Abe Lincoln.

"Man," he says to no one in particular, "I REALLY gotta go!"

Soon as Abe shuts the Arco restroom door, he bounds back out.

"Toilet's backed up," he says, "BAD!" Abe looks at Serj behind the counter. Serj looks at me.

"Cabbage Patch," I say, "She was just in there. I TOLD you guys not to let those crack heads in there. See what happens?"

"Can SOMEBODY fix it?" the limo driver asks plaintively, "I REALLY gotta go!" He looks at Serj. Serj looks at me. Serj ALWAYS looks at me when there's something to be done on the customer side of the cash register counter.

I walked into the restroom and peered into the toilet bowl. Inside the toilet bowl was the biggest, meanest chunk of crackhead shit I had ever seen. Big mother. Jeeezus! It was big around as my fist and half as long as my arm. The fucker was jammed tight into the little toilet hole like a brown concrete log.

Jeeezus! How the hell's something like THAT come out of somebody without an ambulance being summoned? Frikkin' monster turd it was. Something like this could plug up the whole neighborhood sewer.

The limo driver called out through the door I had closed for modesty's sake, "See it! See it! That thing's got her all jammed up."

"I see it."

"Can ya work it? I, uh, I normally wouldn't ask a guy to work something like that alone, but . . ."

"You gotta go. I know. Hang on."

I looked around the restroom for a plunger. There was no plunger. In fact, I don't ever remember seeing a plunger anywhere in the gas station.

"SHIT!" I said.

"What happened?" the limo driver asked as I possibly could've been attacked by the monster. Wouldn't want something like THAT on his conscience. I imagined he was on the other side of the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the male of the species is like to do in cases like this.

I looked at the malevolent biological mass in the john. Jeezus, it was a big fucker. Freakin' Cabbage Patch. What the hell had she eaten? A horse? Cripes.

I took a deep breath, held it a moment, and exhaled. No fuckin' turd is gonna beat ME, I thought. No turd. No turd. No turd.

I steeled myself. Planted my feet. Grit my teeth in as ferocious a badass scowl as I could manage (maybe scare the fucker off). Then I made my body hard as iron and plunged my arm into the abyss, yanking and tugging and pushing and punching the damned turd. On the other side of the door, no doubt they heard splashing a cursing, "No turd! No turd! No turd!"

I wrestled that evil boa constrictor turd with my bare hand, twisting and yanking and cursing the day that Cabbage Patch ate the horse and the turd began to give way, began to crumble around the edges and succumb to my powerful will until finally, with one last burst of power, I shoved that evil piece of human concrete through the little hole.

If nothing else, I am master over the trespassing turd. No turd has ever beaten me. None.

I washed my hands and walked out of the restroom triumphantly.

"Go ahead," I said to the limo driver with the air of a city mayor who had just cut the ribbon to a new underground expressway, "It's all yours."

The limo driver hurriedly brushed past me into the restroom and backed out again.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's lookin' at me," he said.

Damn! The thing had crawled back out. Tougher turd than I thought. It was just a smaller chunk, though, and I was easily able to dispatch it. No turd has ever beaten me. None.
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