Something just wasnt right.  It was early, and my brain had not booted up to Windows expecations of normal running.  It was to be expected.  I had not forgotten Sarah Marshal, and how long it would take me to get hard for her and Racheal.

I was relieving myself in the approriate manner, in my toilet, not in te front yard.

I lifted my foot up to flush the toilet, the same way I had seen it in that one commercial advertising for soccer.

Lake Erie is what that flush turned my bathroom into.

As I was splashing around in the newly formed hyrdo formation like a duck or a child or a child duck I realized I had to act fast to curb the new ecological disaster that had befallen my bathroom.  I quickly showered, skipping fun time that I so enjoyed, and proceeded to the nearest retail location to buy myself something that could hamper the mess as soon as humanly possible.

I entered the fluroscent light edifice and found the nearest flunky that could assist in my finding of the neccessary equipment.

I asked where a mop and a plunger was, and the Twix bars.

"Had a little problem in the bathroom this morning, huh?"  The pimple faced kid exclaimed.

Shut your mouth swine, are you Homeland Security or something?  Working for Hoover trying to give him a brief entitled "Shopping Behaviors of Americans?  What aisle can I find my stuff dickwad.

"Over here on aisle 9B."  He said, unfazed by my bantor.

What kind of return policy do you have un plungers.  I only need it for a tick.

"Um you cant return plungers after there used sir."

Well how are you going to know huh?  Send it off to the lab for tests?  Return policy seems fubar to me.

"That will be 17.68 sir"

I am watching you mother fuckers.  I am watching you.  If this doesnt work, and they do ot allow the return, then it is always back to the front yard.

~AW Smith