Do you have Prince Albert in a can?

My landlord, George, came over to fix my toilet today. You all remember my landlord, George? He was a Don't Bee in Mafia Romper Room. Instead of a Miss June they had a Miss Joanie.

So, in he shambles, tracking snow and bad karma all the way from the kitchen to that tiny bathroom of mine. When it comes to the size of my bathroom, water closet doesn't even begin to describe it.

In his grasping little hands my landlord was carrying several wrenches, a screwdriver, one of those rubber flapper things you put in a toilet, an extension cord, a big electric saw, and possibly explosives.

My landlord asked me, "Do you have a flashlight? I have a flashlight but I don't have it with me."

"Well, I'm so glad to know that you have a flashlight somewhere in the universe, George, but why was it important to tell me about it, hmm?" I thought to myself.

The demolition began, with much clanking and grinding saw noises. Also flushing. I had the vacuum out because:

1) I didn't want to have to talk to George while he was there.
2) I didn't want him to see how dirty and dusty my apartment was while he had his head buried in MY TOILET!

Eventually there was nothing more I could suck dirt off of and my landlord, George, started in on his usual rant. He wanted to know how the heat's been since he put in the new furnace. I told him it's been great, like the incredible dope that I am. Immediately he started suggesting turning off a radiator or two in the apartment while complaining about how much oil was costing him and so forth. I gave an inch and let him turn off the bathroom radiator. He took a mile and tried to turn off the kitchen radiator as well, managing to break the knob right off but leaving the radiator in an on position. As a consolation prize I let him turn off the bedroom radiator, fully intending to turn all the radiators right back on again as soon as he was gone, the rat bastard.

My landlord, George, started packing up to go, losing his glasses in the process, sending me off on a wild hunt until he found them again. In his pocket. Once he was gone I rushed into the bathroom to find the bolts he cut tossed onto the floor, packaging from the flapper thing also tossed on the floor, two giant gouges chewed out of the toilet lid, and a black awful greasy mess in the toilet, the sink, AND the bathtub! WTF, George? Know what else I found? The water turn off thingy had started leaking in a much worse fashion than the toilet had been!

So, now I'll have to call my landlord, George, to come back over again tomorrow. I'll have to try and remember to turn the radiators off before he gets here.
  • Current Mood: calgon take me away
Calgon ain't cutting it. Unless you cram that bottle up (or down) one of George's orifices.