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Warning: this post contains dead pets and bowel movements.

For a few months now my mom has been bitching at me because she believes that I refuse to flush the toilet after I've use the restroom. At any given moment in our bathrooms, one can open a toilet and find old shit. What Mom really doesn't want to believe is that we need to have a costly repair to be done to our sewer connection.

Yesterday my mother and I were talking to our neighbors upstream from us. Their seven year old daughter recently lost her first pet, Nemo, to old age. Nemo's death was the first time the daughter had ever touched the concept of death. They held a funereal in the bathroom, complete with a recording of Amazing Graze, eulogies, and a cermonial flushing. Nemo was sent to the river styx with a bouquet's worth of rose petals.

Untill Nemo and his rose petals were resurrected, in my bathroom.


"That did not come out of my ass!" I gloated, pointing to the dead goldfish in the toilet.

"Didn't you go out for sushi a few days ago?" queried my mom. I did in fact eat sushi a week ago, but no sushi restaurant I've ever been to serves goldfish. Mom still didn't want to believe that the sewer connection to our house was broken.

"Plus, I don't eat rose petals!" I added

"You have a point" she admitted, "Your ass smells anything but roses."