I Need a Plunger, Stat!
Remember that story I told about the booger picking (and eating) guy I worked with at EDS? Well, this is a story about another co-worker, Karen. A non-booger picking and non-booger eating co-worker. Well, she never picked her nose at work. I can't say what she did in the personal confines of her abode. She might be a pickin' and grinnin' fool behind closed doors for all I know.
Anyway, Karen sat next to me at work and we both had a contagious sense of humor and we kept the rest of the group pretty much entertained throughout our whole 12-hour shift. I never really communicated or socialized with anyone from work on our days off, but I had mentioned that I rented a movie -- something Karen said she was interested in ogling. So, I invited Karen and a few other friends over to watch the movie. We all ordered spicy buffalo wings for dinner.
Half-way through the movie, Karen got up and went to the bathroom. (I lived in an apartment at the time and only had one bathroom.) Being the gracious host I am -- ahem! -- I paused the movie to await her return. In the meantime, my friends and I got to talking about something and we all started laughing. Mid-laugh, my cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID and thought, "WTF?" Apparently, I had a confused look on my face.
Friend: What's wrong?
Me: Karen is calling me. I thought she just went to the bathroom. Did she leave and we didn't notice?
Friend: I think we would have noticed, you dumb ass. She has to walk through the living room to get to the front door and where are we sitting? THE LIVING ROOM!
Me: Don't be a jackass.
I answer the phone.
Karen (whispering): Um, yeah, Hi.
Karen: (still whispering): Um, do you have a plunger?
Me: A what?
Karen: Shhhh...don't be so loud. I can hear you in the bathroom. This is embarrassing.
Me: (whispering): Ok, is that better?
Karen: Yes, that's better. So, do you have a plunger?
Me: Um, no. I've never needed one.
Karen (stressfully whispering loudly): SHIT DAMMIT ALL TO HELL, WHO DOESN'T OWN A PLUNGER?
Me (shrugging): Apparently me. What do you need a plung--
Karen: SHH! DON'T SAY THE WORD! If you do, then everyone will know what I did.
Me: What did you do?
Karen (ignoring my question): Okay, don't panic and for the love of all things holy, don't tell anyone else out there that I called you looking for a plunger. I'll call you back.
Me: Um, okay.
I hang up the phone.
Friend (arching one eyebrow): Everything okay?
Me (wondering what the hell was going on with Karen): Um, yeah, I think so.
I hear Karen's muffled voice coming from that bathroom. I figured she must have called someone else. Suddenly, she got all shout-y. Curiosity got the best of me, so I walked over to the bathroom door and lightly knocked.
Me: What's going on?
Me: Karen, open the door so I know you are okay.
She barely cracks the door and I see one eyeball, her nose, and the right-side of her mouth.
Karen: I just need a plunger. I called my house, but my kids can't find one. I need to run to my apartment and grab it.
Me: Can it really be that bad? Sometimes toilet paper gets stuck, but it usually comes undone with a wire coat hanger. Let me get one.
Karen reaches through the small slit on the door and pulls me back. I almost fall backwards.
Karen: Um, yeah, this is not a, "wire coat hanger" type of situation. This is a war zone and if OSHA finds out, you're getting a hefty fine.
Me: ME? You're then one that left the "situation" in my bathroom. Sounds like you'll be the one who is fined. I'm just an innocent bystander who provided the location for you to dump your shit (pun not intended, yet, intended).
And then the odor leaked out the door. Ugh!
Karen: Okay, I'm going to run home, grab the plunger. You guard the door and don't let anyone in here.
Me: Do you know how crazy you sound right now?
Karen: Shut up!
And then she left. Thank goodness she only lived about 5 minutes away.
Friend: What's going on?
Me: I'm not supposed to tell you.
Friend: Well, all this nonsense makes me have to pee.
Me: YOU CAN'T GO IN THERE!
Friend (ignoring me): Y'all are acting strange.
My friend walks over to the bathroom, opens the door, stands there in disbelief, closes the door and comes back to the living room.
Friend: I wouldn't go in there if I were you.
Me: I tried to warn you.
Karen made it back and plunged the toilet. The earth continued to rotate on its' axis yet again.
Karen has sworn me to silence about what happened on "Spicy Buffalo Chicken Night," and I haven't told a soul. Can y'all keep a secret too?
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