Water sprayed the front of Alycia’s shirt as she pushed the plunger over and over, faster and faster. She was sick of her husband’s video game addiction. Her interruptions were annoying? She showed him what annoyance was. She hit the flusher. The bowl gurgled in defeat.
Despite everything, she did need a working toilet. Time to call jammedjohns.com.
***
An attractive plumber—no beltless Levis for this guy—arrived and pulled a small, shiny object, and a game controller wrapped in a sodden, bloody T-shirt from the drainpipe.
“Missing this ring?”
“No.” she smiled. Good thing she flushed the fingers first.
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Phantom by Liam Dragan"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Neuroluxe Implant no 3Z82M99B64 by Bryanna Botham"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Blindly Following Orders by Chris Tattersall"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Donor by Collette Night"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>