He hadn’t. The last time he’d used a plunger, he’d somehow managed to crack the porcelain of a toilet in his college dorm. He was asked never to return to that dorm.
Leo looked at the toilet. He looked at the plunger, still leaning against the wall like a tired soldier. He looked at his phone, which buzzed with a new email from his boss: “Urgent: Q3 projections.” upstairs toilet clogged
“Okay,” Leo whispered to the rubber plunger he kept behind the toilet like a ceremonial sword. “We’ve trained for this.” He hadn’t
He poured. The hot water cascaded into the already full bowl. For a moment, nothing happened. The toilet seemed to digest the offering. Then, with a roar like a waking lion, the water level dropped . The bowl emptied with a violent, slurping gasp. Leo looked at the toilet
“From chest height,” he muttered. “This is insane.”
He waited. Ten seconds. Twenty. The water in the bowl stayed low. The lake on the floor began to recede back toward the base of the toilet.
He did the only thing a reasonable, unprepared man could do. He called his mother.