Cthulhu Loo

Dear Dad, I hope you don't mind me writing about all the STUPENDOUS drama going on here. Grab yourself some coffee and cookies. It's gonna be epic!

September, 2

Damnville

Dear Dad,

You can survive for three weeks without food, for a week without water and turn into a measly gremlin the next very day without a toilet. You’re reading a toilet monster, Dad. Never feed me after dark, ha, ha!

It all started when Ma got struck by one of her *BRILLIANT IDEAS* to change the entire pipe system in our house. Just after she flushed the lobsters’ shell down the drain, and they got stuck there for good, like getting back to the ocean wasn’t their most cherished dream before dying. The easiest way out was to invite a proper plumber, but that wasn’t in Ma’s horoscopes she reads every time she needs to do something PIPING. Instead, she invited our neighbour Mr Gardenzio even though he’s not a plumber but an ex-heavy-lift-boxer and also never gets my name right (he calls me Buster.) I have nothing against boxers and busters, Dad, but every time Mr Gardenzio comes by, my house smells of dogs, sounds like a rush hour, and I am a free errand boy.

He smashed all our pipes into dust and sent me to buy one thousand and one thingies I’VE NEVER KNOWN BEFORE EVEN EXISTED. I called Amazons and together we rumbled by the hardware stores like three lost kittens. Hecta asked, why would a boxer fix your pipes. I said, ”He re-qualified into a plumber after he retired.” But when we were back it turned out, he actually did not coz he’d just had a spontaneous duel with the toilet pan. And won. It cracked in two like pieces of the cosmic Yin and Yan that now will never get back together T_T

Then the ball got rolling...

Ma hit her stupendous fit about God punishing her for all her *MAGIC POWERS*. Mr Gardenzio went to have his tenth bucket of coffee and I was sent back shopping for a new toilet pan. Ma ordered one just like our dead old pal even if it was like, hundred years old and hardly flashed anything down. Whatever you put there surfed on the rips of running water and proudly plopped back on the bowl. Ma believes old things are better things, plus cheaper, and bought one from the Internet at a massive discount. I used all public toilets in the nearest cafes and officially declare I prefer new things. You simply push the button there and the poo vanishes as if by magic not waiting for you to PUSH IT MANUALLY.

Anyway, the next day, I took Amazons to collect my new toilet coz Ma refused to pay for the delivery. At the shop, it turned out they didn’t even wrap it up. And it weighed a complete tone! I said, “What a chance to pump our Shaolin warrior power.” Agnieszka said, “Quite!” and took the plastic tank, like a princess. Hecta and I grabbed that anvil-like bum throne and kung-fu-dragged it along the streets sweating and panting like all proper warriors proper should. Met our Domestic Science teacher Mrs Jennings doing her shopping. She gasped as she saw us coming her way and lamented that we brought her bad luck with that empty vessel. It’s like having all thirteen black cats and a magpie crossing your path in one go. I thought an empty toilet can’t be worth luck than NO TILET AT HOME AT ALL. But then it turned out it WAS bad luck coz that bloody WC didn’t fit in anywhere. It had so a monstrous bowl it would serve giants with butts as big as shopping malls. Mr Gardenzio got ready to rematch it but Ma phoned the shop to blow their brains off for selling us a Cthulhu’s loo and sent us to get it hell outa the house and over a mile back. BACK. TO. THE. SHOP. I think Mrs Jennings had a heart attack when our paths crossed again.

We ordered a standard one now AND A DELIVERY SERVICE. But they will only bring it tomorrow. I’m a homeless kitten now, Dad. I have no personal closet, i.e., no territory to mark, no roots, no claims. Even monks have somewhere to pee, right? I’m a gipsy tumbleweed. I will sleep at Hecta’s tonight. Gotta do my business in the bushes till the rest of my life if Mr Gardenzio doesn’t box it all back together.

Write to you soon,

Your gremlin Skipper

Author's Note

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