There’s nothing I find as mortifying as another person chancing upon my offspring floating in a toilet. There are times when I flush and just walk out without double checking to be sure I’ve left no remnants, only to hear moments later, the flushing sound of the same toilet after another person has just entered. “Crap!” I sigh in embarrassment, “I think I left a tad back there.” And every time that happens, I don’t look my housemate eye to eye for a minimum of two days.
This morning though. While picking my toothbrush from the cup we use for a toothbrush holder, I found the little guy I’d just flushed a minute ago still chilling nonchalantly in his little pool. With all his siblings gone, he stood strong and bold like a dry maize cob. “Oh well, just another flush and he’ll be on his way” I thought as I pulled down the handle with one hand and reaching for the toothpaste with the other.
While brushing, I looked over my shoulders to see what–if any–was left of junior, and guess what? There he was, wholesome and intact like nothing happened. “Oh crap” I exclaimed as I waited for the cistern to fill up.
It was getting late and my housemate wanted to use the bathroom, but junior was being uncooperative. Were he a real child, now would be one of those moments when an adult starts to plead with a child who seems to be enjoying a game to stop.
“Look here buddy, we can always do this another day, but daddy is late for work and he need to go, and so do you, okay?” I would probably beg, to which he would giggle and wag his little tail like a duckling in a water sink.
Hands on hips, I stood over the toilet for what I hoped would be the last time and pulled the handle. I watched junior swirl in a vortex and for a moment, he was out of sight. But like the floater that he was, the little bastard bopped back wobbling against the bowl wall.
“Ok, that’s it, you’ve brought this onto yourself” I threatened like you would to a stubborn child as you pick up a stick. Only that I didn’t pick a stick for junior, but I reached for the toilet brush and mashed the little nigger up, realizing later that I’d created a cluster bomb instead. I flushed again and they all floated like tiny toad eggs in a pond.
“Roger it’s getting late” My housemate had lost his patience, probably thinking I was busy chocking my chicken. “juth a minith” I replied with the toothbrush shoved back in my mouth trying to pretend I was still brushing my teeth, yet what I was actually brushing was in the toilet bowl. I had to be quick but the cistern was taking forever to fill up. I slid a basin under the tap and opened it, figuring that this would help a little bit with the awkward silence as well us refill the cistern faster.
I honestly considered running to the kitchen to pick a strainer and skim the bloody toilet manually. Replacing it wouldn’t be very expensive.But there was no way I could do this without my housemate bumping into my little mess before I could clear it up. After careful consideration, I decided to take my last option, mashing the fragments further into a paste; during which process of panicking, I stroked the brush with inappropriate force that splashed the glop into my face.
“F-U-C-K M-E!” I moaned, my face baubed with my own not-so-solid waste. I could feel the fragments wiggle on my eyelids, and then under the eyelids as I kept blinking.
“Oh Christ, you know you could have answered your bone-a-phone in your room? You can’t keep me here waiting this long”
“I am through, just a second”
I would rather own up to the accusation of assaulting my friendly weapon than explain my little incident. I flushed again before moving to the sink to wash off my facial, meanwhile, the basin under the tap was full and I emptied it in the bowl. With this basinful, my paste was washed down. Just one final flush and I was out. My housemate had already left for work, without showering.
Reaching office, a workmate pointed out; “Hey, you have a little something in the corner of your left eye.”