You shit your pants the moment you saw the leak.

45 years of clutter is floating in the water after your basement is miraculously transformed into a bathtub. And as the water continues to surge, climbing higher and higher, you call in the big guns, demanding their best plumber STAT.

When he arrives, this philosopher diagnoses you with a leak as if you didn’t just call in complaining about one. And then he does the unthinkable.

He tells you to grab a seat in your own home — you reluctantly oblige.

As you settle into your situation, he leans on the kitchen counter, takes a deep breath, and asks,

“I know this sounds crazy. But how much do you really know about plumbers?”

You feel a tightness rise in your chest, unsure of what he’s actually asking.

“Umm… they like toilets?”

He shakes his head.

“That’s what they all say. But you should know that some pipes flush deeper than you think.”

You nod, hoping it pushes down your bubbling fear.

“Most people think plumbers are mindless idiots. Too lazy to wear a belt. Too busy to show up on time. But what you don’t know is that some of us were trained by F.L.O.W.M.A.S.T.E.R.S. — The Fraternity of Legendary Overflow Warriors, Mystics, and Secret Technicians Engaged in Retrieving Shitty Artifacts.”

His eyes study you.

“You asked for our best plumber, and I’m the best we got.”

Now terrified, you sit back and look at the knife in the kitchen, counting the steps. He continues.

“Under your shit shack, I believe you have what the ancients call ‘The Fearsome Flush’.”

His eyes drift into memory lane as he scans the horizon.

“You see, hidden in the pipes of Rome, there was a porcelain prophecy that foretold the end of the world. It spoke of a leak so vile, so uncontrollable that it floods the entire planet, and I believe you have just ushered it in.”

He looks at you, armageddon in his eyes.

“I gotta ask son — what did you eat?”

“Uhh… Chipotle.”

“Damnit to Hell!”

His fists tighten. You run your fingers through your hair.

“Ok…what do we do now?”

The plumber puts his hand on your shoulder and stares solemnly.

“I can’t answer that — but you should be with your loved ones.”

The clog crusader pulls back and watches water trickle into the kitchen as if he were the captain of a doomed ship. He inches forward.

“I’m prepared to meet my maker.” He looks back only for a moment. “Are you?”

He slips beneath the water.

Your stomach twists and moans as moments turn to minutes when a gurgle coughs up the plumber.

He’s holding up a golden plunger as if it were Poseidon’s Trident while a prideful smile stretches across his face.

“It’s over; It’s fuckin’ over. The Fearsome Flush is finished.”

You shrug. Your face puzzles.

“So did you fix the fuckin’ thing?”

Please, like, comment share and tell me what you think. Have any funny stories with a contractor? Tell me. This my entry for a comedy writing contest and I hope you enjoyed it.