Panic set in. Mark texted his buddy, a plumber, at 2:15 AM: “Help. Toilet clogged. It’s… biological.”

There was a glug . A deep, mournful sound from the bowels of the earth. Then a whoosh .

Mark stared at the screen. “Pumpkin. How did you know?”

“No,” Mark whispered. “Don’t you dare.”

“Ah,” the plumber replied. “The high-volume artist. Okay. Don’t flush again. Don’t add soap. Soap makes the poop-snake angry. You need a toilet auger. But since it’s 2 AM, try this: boiling water. Slowly. From waist height. The thermal shock sometimes breaks the… sculpture.”