The Una Plumber

While thrusting a plunger into a clogged toilet, my son stood behind me. As he watched my epic struggle plumbing, the scene reminded me of a childhood memory. I remembered standing behind my father as he tried to get a clogged toilet back on line in the 1970’s.

Like stair steps, my brothers and I were all born a few years apart. It should be known for the purpose of storytelling that there was more sailor in my father than there are Popeye cartoons. I can still hear the echo of his baritone voice rattling the clogged pipes in our downstairs bathroom. With frustration and his sailor’s tongue occupying cramped quarters, it made everyone's life miserable.

Father’s instincts suspected hanky panky from the first gurgling sound. With plunger shaking in hand, father gathered his four children for a confessional. He gave us his evil eye, a glaring stare that had a way of silencing staunch critics let alone scared children. When nobody admitted to any culpability, father returned to the bathroom wielding the plunger. Water could be heard sloshing around the dirty toilet bowl like an angry miniature sea. After a strenuous exercise workout, father reached down into that wasteful bowl. To almost everyone’s surprise, father lifted a mangled 8 inch Amazing Spiderman action figure from the murky recesses. Understandably, father’s face erupted to piping mad. He looked to his sons for a straight answer to explain away the crooked doll that had been wedged in a defacatorium. Short of paradise but knowing my own innocence, I looked to my three brothers trying to spring the culprit from the lair.

Father started a usual rant as he held Spiderman with a death grip. “What the %^&&? Who the %^$#? What the #$%$ is wrong with one of you?”

Father returned to the bathroom where he flushed the faulty toilet. To his surprise, the water level remained in the bowl. Like a defeated man plumb out of luck, father knew that one of his sons was responsible for drowning the super hero in this live caper. The Una Plumber was prepping to kill one of his own. But who? My younger brother Jim approached my father from behind to face the gauntlet. In a few decisive words, Jim summarized the watery depth of the problem in boyish tones.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I sent Aquaman after Spiderman.”

Dam the throne of parenthood.