Leo stared at his bathroom ceiling. Water was kissing the porcelain rim again. He’d tried the plunger (disaster), the boiling water (ineffective), and a forbidden coat hanger (regret). It was Sunday night. His mother-in-law arrived tomorrow.
Gus pulled out a tablet and tapped. “Base fee, yes. But there’s the after-hours Sunday uplift: $20. The ‘previous homeowner installed a European trap’ complexity fee: $35. Biological hazard PPE (gloves and eye shield): $12. Emergency rapid-response surcharge (I got here in 14 minutes): $18. And a disposal fee for the toy soldier – historic reenactment edition, apparently.” toilet unblocker cost
Leo paid. Then he wrote a one-star review: “Gus unclogged my toilet in four seconds. It cost more than my first car. But damn if I didn’t learn the true value of a vertical thump.” Leo stared at his bathroom ceiling
The sign on the van said “Dr. Plumbgood – No Job Too Small, No Smell Too Tall.” The price list was faded, but the first line was bold: It was Sunday night