For a moment, nothing. Then a deep, plumbing groan—the building’s ancient pipes waking from a long slumber. Greg pushed harder. The water wobbled. He pulled up. The water sucked down an inch. Hope flared.
Then the water level began to rise.
He plunged again. And again. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His thrift-store tie dangled into the danger zone. On the fifth plunge, a sound emerged: a wet, shuddering schlurrrrp , like a giant drinking the last of a milkshake through a bent straw. urinal clog
He did the only thing a reasonable man could do. He stopped mid-stream. For a moment, nothing
The water vanished. The clog surrendered. A final, satisfied sigh echoed from the drain. The water wobbled
But for the rest of the afternoon, whenever he heard a faint gurgle from the building’s walls, he smiled. He had faced the urinal clog—and won.