I have a big problem

Mainly, it's the big pile of steaming shit and apparently

indestructable newspaper in my toilet is providing a

delicious appetiser to the roaches and fruit flies

who are eating the red puke still spattered all over

the floor from Saturday night.

They should make shit smeared newspaper into bullet proof

vests or maybe even pontoon bridges and attack helecopter

armor, since no matter what you do to it, it won't disintegrate

or flush down the toilet no matter what you pour in

there or how many times you flush it. (at least a

hundred so far... and I've poured toilet duck,

comet, and half a bottle of vodka in there already)

Needless to say I'm too scared to even think about

using the toilet plunger. Even if I wasn't in the

Toilet Plunger Liberation front, and opposed to the

humiliation and exploitation of Toilet Plungers, the

very thought of plunging anything connected to my

hand, even if it was ten feet long, into that

unbelievably disgusting blob of human excrement,

liver tumors, tapeworms, and newspaper, makes me want

to puke again, and then I'd have to hang my head in that

same toilet, and maybe drool all over that, lets

face it, now thouroughly rotten shit which has been

festering in luke warm water for two days. If I did

that, my misshappen head hanging in that toilet, I

might never, ever stop puking. I could DIE.

So I'm going to boil some water in my water kettle

and pour that in there to soften it up. If that doesn't

work I guess I've got to forget taking a bath tonight

'cause it stinks too much in there.

I guess all this diserves some kind of explanation,

you see, Eddie my pal, stopped by my crib Friday

while I was at work, and used the last eight or so

inches of my precious toilet paper. When I got

home, he grinned at me like an idiot as I ran to the

bathroom to dump all my stress into Newport bay,

calmly neglecting to tell me that he used it all,

and so I had to use the OC weekly, but at least it


I did get to the store later and bought beer,

cigarettes, a newspaper, and ... what else was I

supposed to get? I know there was something else...

Then Saturday night, In my attempt to recover what

was left of my party dreams, I hooked up with a bunch of

drunken assholes at Tiki Bar, got to watch ten bouncers

drool all over some oversexed girl in our group

whose gangster boyfriend only gets out of jail long enough

to beat the shit out of her and knock her up again, (she

already has two kids) I mean not that I care, but anyway

nobody would pay attention to me so I had to do a lot of

drinking, Irish Whiskey for some unkown self destructive

reason, and evidently

(ah, excuse me, just came back from dumping the

boiling water... almost puked again from the

delicious aroma of the shit steam... but I digress)

Anyway, so everything began to become a blur, I

remember telling outrageous lies about knife fights

and other bullshit to some Bouncer guy who kept

trying to look over my shoulder at this girls almost

completely bared bozooom, enjoying driving him nuts

by expertly distracting his attention... then I was driven

home, I think, around two or three in the morning,

drank about a quart of water, tried to make pancakes

with just flour and water but gave up, and in a

desperate last ditch attempt to ward off another acute

alcohol poisoning, delerium tremens event, tried to

take a shower to sober up.

But my shower is broke, so I sat down in the bath and

eventually passed out, but my stomach didn't want me

to sleep so I woke up and remember spraying puke in a

a remarkable 180 degree arc all around the toilet,

everywhere except in it, and the next thing I

remember is waking up at about eight o-clock Sunday

morning, with a t-shirt upside down for pants on,

and another t-shirt the regular way.

I was dreaming my standard dream about the Jungle on

the beach in Costa rica, with my hammock, my fishing

pole, my rum cocoa, my two mute Costa rican wives, my

coconut trees, chickens, hut, etc., the only difference

was my drink was empty and I was really thirsy, I kept

hearing some waterfall that I couldn't see anywhere, and

one of my two 'wives' had stuck an axe in my head, but

I was too lazy to get up and figure out why or anything.

Suddenly, I woke up.

First thing I noticed was that I still heard the

strange waterfall sound, and I still had the axe in

my head. Being an experienced wino, I took this in

stride, and conducted a careful, private detective like

investigation, (no mean feat when both of your eyes are on

one side of your pounding head) i.e. after staring at my

bathroom uncomprehendingly for about five minutes it turned

out to be my still running bath, which was spilling over and

evidently had been for hours, into my psychotic new neighbors

appartment, who already once threatened to kill me for making

too much noise one night when me and Eddie where over here,

you guessed it, drinking.

So anyway, I turned off the water, put on some

pants, and strode into my living room, (that dream,

even with wierd alterations, always puts me into a

proud, Latin king mood,) and stood staring at my

hundreds of dollars of useless tropical fish.

I still had an invisible axe sliced into my cooller,

but I figured cheerfully 'It could have been worse!'

Well, thats when my stomach, which hadn't dropped

it's burden now for two days, slithered

frighteningly. I ran back into the bathroom, but alas!

The toilet was draped with what looked like some

form of virulent tropical red colored fungus.

The toilet was completely unusable. I consulted my gut

but there was no time to go take a dump down at jack in the

box or anything. So I got down on hands and knees,

and with newspaper cleaned off the worst of the bile

and blood and whatnot off of the toilet seat, and sat

down for a satisfying excremeditation session, reading

the few remaining scaps of OC weekly.

Thats when I remembered I still had no TP.

So to make a long story short, I had to use a bunch

of newspaper, again, and evidently used way, way,

way, way too much, probably because I was feeling extra

fastidious in my almost unbearably repulsive


And there you have it. Now it's Monday, I still

haven't bathed (unless you count Saturday night) and

I'm afraid to go in the bathroom. By now hopefully

the shit steam has settled and been absorbed in the

walls, the floor, my toothbrush, etc., and now it's

time for me to go and try the flush test one more

time. Wish me luck.

PS If I turn up dead, it was my neighbor

PPS It flushed! I flushed five times and the

toilet finally swallowed down it's latest ghastly


Keep the peace,

and don't drink too much,

Drifter "Bob"