Friday, December 2, 2016

Zombies do not care about plumbing

The undead have no respect for the plumbing. They don’t teach you that when you fill out the paperwork for your apprentice license. I became a plummer 7 years before the big crash, 4 of those years running my own business. After civilization crashed from the zombie outbreak, and things stabilized enough to where people started to live again. Plumbers were still in demand. After food, clothing, and shelter, indoor plumbing is a close 4th. It's been 5 years since we beat back the zombies. I'm glad I'm just a regular plummer in the burbs. Those sewer workers, the pay isn’t enough. They are still pulling them from the sewers in the cities. 1 a week is just too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I run into the occasional restlessly departed, that the PC name for them now. But that is a rare occurrence. 3 in 5 years is considered safe. I never go under a house without looking and listening a few minutes before entering. And if I shoot your cat while under there for jumping out of the darkness, you should have locked them up. Their is a reason why the tool belt has a holster on it.
Where my problem really starts is not with the zombies really, but the living. Since the plague slowed down, people didn’t see the need to finish off their family members. You just pay a wrangler to tie them up, slap a rubber ball in their mouth, and send them home. They may want to tussle with you every once in a while, but for the most part they just sit or lay there. People hold on to some hope for a cure, but I know better. Christ could raise Lazarus, but Lord knows he wouldn’t try to bring a side of beef back to life. Others just can't let go. Better to have your loved one smelling up the place shuffling here and there, than not have them at all.
Anyway, I used to just pull hair out of drains. Use a snake to drag matted balls of bath grime and shaving residue out of bathtubs. This brings me to my current griping. This morning, Standing in the shower of some blue haired granny who just couldn’t say goodbye to her oaf of a husband. I saw him when i came in, that festering pile of meat. Sitting on his large butt, looking out the window like a bad Halloween decoration. The red ball in his mouth would have made him look like a pig on a spit, that is, if he still had any natural color. His was a sickly gray or ash color.
She called to tell me her drain was backing up; that a horrible smell and rusty colored substance was coming up through the drain. I figured it was a sewage back up. Not my favorite call, but it happens. Payment is extra. Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t sewage.
The snake went down relatively easy, but that was the end of the easy part. When I started pulling the snake back, the white chunks started dropping off the cable, little flaps of raw and old skin. The smell hits me and I wanted to gag. At least if the worst happens I am in a bathroom and can easily find the can. I called for the old lady. She came in wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Ma’am, do you know anything about this?” I ask, pointing at the muck. "I’m pretty sure there is a couple teeth in the mess too."
“Oh dear. Why don’t you plumbers make these drains good enough?”, she said with a look of both anger and regret.
“Well, we don’t expect you to waffle stomp the cherished remains of your restlessly departed down the drain.” I replied.
“But he needs his shower, his hygiene was never great, even before his condition. What washed off, I just pushed it down with my toes." she said defensively.
Now, I normally don’t take kindly to this sort of waste, or the type of person who puts up with it, but something struck me in that moment. As they say, the light bulb lit up over my head. Its brilliance was so simple, but I had the idea that would revolutionize the in home zombie phenomenon and plumbing as we know it. I looked at her with a bright face and asked, “Miss, would you like me to install a garbage disposal in here?”
“Can you do that?” she said surprisingly.
With a smile I said, “Yes. Yes I can.”

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