The Tale of the Unflushable Poo

“Hey Jill, do you still have to pee?” Lizzie called down the office hall.

Somewhat perplexed as to why my need to urinate would concern her, I responded in the affirmative.

“Well, um, can I ask you a question about going to the bathroom?” Lizzie asked, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and reluctance. Intrigued, I rose out of my chair and poked my head out of my office to find Lizzie standing outside of the open bathroom door.

“Of course,” I responded, always game to engage in potty conversation.

“Well, I just went, and there are some stragglers…” Lizzie trailed off, struggling to find the appropriate way to voice her request. My mind instantly recalled both our desire to minimize flushes, saving water, and my own past experience with that particular toilet’s poo flushing ability. I drew the only logical conclusion.

“So there’s a little turdball still in there?” I asked. Sometimes a buoyant floater escaped the first flush.

“Yes, but not quite so little.”

“And you’d like me to see if it flushes after I go to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” I cheerily agreed, and shut the door to do my business. I’ll admit, I was a little uneasy about Lizzie’s turd already residing in the bowl, but I put it out of my mind and emptied my bladder.

Unfortunately, when I pushed the flush lever, only a small trickle of water drained from the tank into the bowl. Then I recalled the water pressure problem that plagued the center’s faucets that day. We had a dribble, at best. Shoot! I’d have to find Lizzie pronto to discuss further options, before the next person walked in and thought it was my poo casually floating in the bowl.

I opened the bathroom door. “Lizzie!” I hollered down the hall. No response. I walked the short distance to her office. Empty. Was I going to have to deal with the disposal of her poo on my own?

I returned to the scene of the crime, and listened for sounds of a happily filling tank. No such luck. At this rate, it’d be an hour before another flush attempt could be made.

“Did it work?” Lizzie’s voice carried down the hall. Relief flooded me. She was back!

“Uh, no. There’s no water to flush it.”

“Ohh! Hmm. Well, we could try to bucket flush it with my reserves,” Lizzie suggested. A good suggestion, except for the tiny swish of water in her Nalgene that constituted her reserves. She walked in and dumped it into the bowl. Predictably, there was no appreciable change.

“No, we have to fill the tank to bucket flush,” I said.

“No, you fill the bowl,” Lizzie responded.

“What good would that do?” I asked.

“It pushes it all down!”

“But you need the force and motion of the water coming down from the tank for it to work.”

“Well when we bucket flushed in Peru, we put it in the bowl.”

“Maybe that worked for the toilets there, but I’ve bucket flushed in Kentucky, and we put it into the tanks.”

By now, our giggle-spattered argument was getting quite noisy. Tim, passing by on important center business, I’m sure, poked his head in the bathroom.

“What’s going on guys?” he innocently inquired. We related to him our current predicament.

“Yeah, I think I’ve bucket flushed by putting water into the bowl, but I don’t have much experience, I mean, I’m like a bucket flushing…not a virgin…,” Tim paused, searching for the right word.

“A novice?” I suggested.

“Yes! I’m a bucket flushing novice,” Tim confirmed and carried about his business, leaving Lizzie and I to dispose of her turd and squabble about the methods of bucket flushing.

Unable to see an immediate solution, I took a cue from Tim and headed back to my office. Afterall, it wasn’t the fruit of my intestines that was causing the problem.

“So what should we do? I have to go to class!” Lizzie said, following me down the hall.

“Um, we could just let the tank fill up. And shut the door,” I helpfully suggested.

“Ok, good idea! I’ve got to go!” Lizzie said, heading out of the offices. A moment later, she appeared at my window. “If I started a bucket filling up in the utility sink, could you watch it for me?”

“Ahkay,” I responded, making a mental note to actually check the bucket before it began overflowing as Lizzie went over to the utility sink.

“Oh, this water actually works!” Lizzie exclaimed. She was soon again at my window, this time with a full bucket of water. “Can I pass this through to you? I need to go to class!”

I took the bucket as she scampered off to the classroom and made my way back to the bathroom. I briefly considered which bucket flushing method I would employ, but figured if I was left flushing someone else’s poo, I could use whatever method I wanted. So I pulled the cover off the tank and filled it with the water, which had a rather murky quality to it as a result of the rain and water problems. After filling the tank to the water line and sending up a quick prayer to the toilet gods, I pushed the flush lever and hoped to soon be rid of my friend’s turd.

The toilet flushed healthily, sending a gush of sediment-filled brown water spiraling around the bowl and down the drain. This was it, the moment of truth. I peered into the bowl and saw nothing but brown water. No turd was visible, but then, it could just be well camouflaged. Still, I felt my job was done. Out of sight, out of mind, they say.

With Lizzie at Devil's Pool (and some creative sign alteration)