Overthunk

So, upon entering the local Chinese food buffet, I determined that I had to GO. As I rushed into the restroom, a horrid stench wafted out. Against all olfactory sense, I still had to GO, so unto the breach I proceeded, holding a piece of shirt over mouth and nose to enable me to survive. Someone else entered as I did, but apparently didn't have to GO like I did, and I said casually, "Wow, we should tell them at the front desk about this." As I was checking each stall, I noted that in one, someone had... missed the shot they'd attempted to take, let's say. It had bounced off the rim. Then they'd tried to clean it up... they just didn't do a very good job. Slightly horrified, I recoiled, and chose another stall. When I gotta GO, I gotta GO. Anyway, in the meantime, the management had been notified. A tiny, older Asian woman dressed in business attire appeared in the restroom door, exclaiming, "Oh my GAAAAWD!!" as she opened it, then shouting in Chi...

It is a fate that one day befalls us all. Water in the bowl, rising like a tide in tandem with the alarm and dread in our hearts and the black realization: it's going to overflow. In the crazed scramble that replays itself in sluggish motion now in my mind, I first went for this lucite-handled excuse for a tool: The Cutesy Blue Plunger. You may affirm that it matches my shower curtain, but nary has it cleared a clog. In a panic, I leapt for Bucket and Bailer. They remained my true friends throughout the ordeal, keeping pisswater from lapping at the soles of my feet. Over and over I went into the breach (seriously, like 110 times) with this trusty, borrowed black steed until my palm was bruised. Yet still, there was battle to be fought. In mounting desperation, I fled to the nearby fortress of Wal-Mart, where I amassed a new arsenal. The Master Plunger sucked up a gallon of water within its accordioned innards, and made impressive burbling sounds which inspired a fleeting optimism. ...