K8 the GR8

I bit down hard on my lower lip and nervously watched the water level in the toilet bowl rise.  I stood back, then breathed a sigh of relief to see the flood waters halt just below the rim. 

“Uhh… Teasy?”

“Yeah.”

“Your bog’s banjaxed.  Sorry about that.”

Teasy pulled her baby out of the dog’s drinking bowl and sighed.  She already knew, and was feeling forlorn.

“I can’t afford a plumber.  Cheque’s not cleared yet.  Dad told me how to fix it though…”

She described a process by which the drain outside is disconnected, hopefully releasing pressure in her tubes.  “It’s not pretty.” she warned.

We sat in silence for a while and stared at the grey rain pelting off the car roof outside through the window.  I felt her pain, and understood that keeping her three children indoors and out of mischief while she farted about in the mud outside solving miserable household problems would be a taxing job for a single mum.

“C’mon, then.”  I said.  “I’ll hold the babby, let’s go outside and have a look.”

Teasy was reluctant.

“C’MON!” I shouted cheerfully.  “Now, before I change my mind!”

We trudged outside, down the decked steps, and into the mudbath.  We meandered around to the bog outflow pipe.  It was duck-tape city.  We began to peel at an elbow-joint, and freed it up quickly.  I passed the baby to his mum, and got a hold of the loose pipe.  I pulled gently and a hissing sound began to fizz from the joint.  Brown gunge began to ooze with urgency. 

“Wahay!” Teasy shouted.

I yanked the tube free and jumped 20 feet backwards.  Glugluglugusshhhhhh.  We watched in revulsion as the problem rectified itself, then went about re-connecting and shovelling while grinning like crazy, to prevent our gag reflexes kicking in.  (This is a trick I am very glad I learned.  Pass it on.)

“Mission succesful, hey?” Teasy shouted.  “Who needs plumbers?!?”

“Right on.”  said I.

Sisters are doin’ it for themselves!