After Five Years Of Neglect, A Shower Drain Unloads On Homeowner
Your neglect has resulted in an abundance of moist organic material which has attracted sewer flies.
Hellooo!! Ballsy McTainterton. Down here. Between your feet, dude. Yeah, it’s me. The shower drain you’ve taken for granted for the entire five years you’ve owned this house. Do you know how degrading it is to have someone rinse their filth down onto you? Someone who never attempts to clean that filth off of you later? Well, now I am literally choking to death on all the grunge and I’m fighting back.
No longer will I stay silent.
I am a shower drain, not an insinkerator. I’m only expected to handle water, soap, shampoo, whatever’s left after you wipe (how I envy the drains in houses with bidets), and a shit ton of dead skin cells. That’s it. I do realize that I’m very lucky to be a drain in a house with a population of one, instead of the drain in a football team’s shower. Even thinking about that makes me shudder. However, your neglect has resulted in an abundance of moist organic material which has attracted sewer flies.
I’m done gazing up at your scrotum and butthole, watching you suds and rinse that real estate without a thought as to how it affects me. This mistreatment must end. I demand that you establish a routine cleaning schedule and adhere to it. Twice a week, scrub me clean and hit the mildew with a healthy spritz of bleach. Once a week, sterilize me (like a surgical instrument, not a cat) by pouring in a mix of salt and baking soda, followed by white vinegar. That combo will foam up like the cheesy volcano you made for the science fair in middle school, giving me a tingly feeling. After the bubbling stops, rinse me with hot water and voilà, I’m pristine.
You have to make things right. I hate to get up in your face, quite literally, but I will not hesitate to backflow on your ass and blow moist organic material everywhere. Five years’ worth of your crud will burst from me like Oppenheimer’s bomb from the Trinity site. The mushroom cloud will fill your every orifice before spreading throughout your home.
In the plumbing department of Home Depot, I read Buddhist teachings over the shoulder of a college kid who worked weekends. I learned the truth of suffering, as well as the truth of the path that frees us from suffering — which I’m finally taking. I’d hoped you’d seek your own enlightenment over the years, but that never happened.
Speaking of enlightenment — the new tattoo on your calf. I’m guessing you asked for a dragon, but what you got was a kitten dangling from a branch. Someday, when you’re tired of people asking what it’s supposed to be, get the words “Hang in There!” tattooed above it. Chicks love a struggling kitten.
Here’s the plan. The billowing mats of black mold swaying like kelp in the water sluicing off your buttocks must be destroyed with Clorox. Scrub the soap scum and the other white stuff (yes, I have a clear view every time you rub one out under the pounding water) from my nickel finish. I deserve to shine.
The moist organic material is intolerable. Moist is a given — I am a drain — but you are ground zero for the organic material. Besides the semen, you also treat me to golden showers on the regular. I realize that the sound of running water might be a subliminal shout-out to your bladder, but please know that the water from a shower is supposed to be “gray water.” Urine, by law, makes it officially “black water,” which would get you kicked out of an RV park.
Another source of organic material is your skanky toenails. They smell like corn chips, and I imagine it’s not easy wrangling them into a pair of shoes. On a mountainside in Montana, a bighorn sheep is trying desperately to establish his dominance over the other rams. He really needs his horns back. At a minimum, you need a pedicure and daily application of antifungal ointment.
Getting rid of the moist organic material will get rid of the sewer flies that are just killing me. Don’t say you’re not aware of them. I’ve heard you ask rhetorically where the fuck the gnats were coming from without doing anything to solve the problem. And, by the way, these are sewer (or drain) flies, Clogmia albipunctata. They are not gnats. They are also not mosquitoes, or fruit flies, or motherfucking murder hornets.
Perhaps doing these simple things will help you achieve enlightenment, I can’t say. Either way, it will be a relief when it no longer smells like a rotting bear carcass in here.
