There was a knock at the door. “And it’s about bloody time,” Collins John muttered to himself, setting his mug of chocolate to one side and going to let the three-hour-late plumber in. Swearing under his breath, he opened the front door. A great, soggy twat of a man stood there in front of him.
“Here about your pipes,” he guffed in a bass monotone.
“It’s about bloody time,” said Collins John, curtly. “You look disgusting. It’s as if a giant tumour grew legs and arms, and walked up to my house, and knocked on my door wearing really bad clothes.”
The plumber gave no indication that he’d heard or understood, and instead just stood there like an ape.
“Come in then - it’s this way.” said Collins John. He lead the plumber through to the kitchen. “There - that sink. It’s all clogged up and shitty.”
The plumber shambled silently up to the sink Collins John was pointing at with his skinny, straight finger. He opened up the cupboard beneath, and began his work.
About an hour later, Collins John was in the middle of filing his grey paper, when he glanced at the time. “Piss!” He said loudly. “Piss and piss! Why hasn’t that revolting man finished with my sink yet?”. He headed downstairs. When he got there, the kitchen was empty.
“Plumber!? Where are you?” He demanded of the empty room, squinting his piggy little eyes, and whipping his head around as if it made a difference.
“He’s not here.” Said a gurgling, watery voice. “He never was.”
“Who is that?!” Collins John bellowed, looking around himself.
“I’m over here…” beckoned the voice. Collins John centred on the sound. It was coming from the sink. “Why don’t you come over here and we can catch up! It’ll be just like old times…” it burbled.
“You don’t talk. You’re a sink.” Collins John said, flatly, but approached nevertheless.
“Oh but I’m not just a sink…” it said, “I’m a blocked sink. You were right about that much.”
“What did you do with the plumber, you bastard sink? And if you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me what you’re blocked with?”
The sink laughed. “There never was a plumber you stupid fuck!” it said, still pissing itself like a schoolboy. “I already told you that.”
“…there wasn’t?” asked Collins John, a little concerned for the first time that day.
“Of course not, roachface! That was a stray dog! Don’t you remember? You made it eat raw bacon!”
Collins John had nothing left to say.
“And as for what I’m blocked with… well…” the sink paused for dramatic effect. “I’m full of months.”
Collins John started to cry. “I don’t know…” he bluttered out between heaving sobs, “I don’t know… I don’t… I mean there was… plumber… I wanted… there was a plumber and now you’re talking… it’s… it’s what…” He sat down in the middle of the floor, curled up into a ball, and started rocking as he wept.
“I’ve seen you.” Said the sink. “You put all the numbers in the right place, don’t you? You wank in the shower, I’ve seen that too. Oh the things I’ve seen.”
“Stop it!” Collins John barked from behind his hands, tears coarsing down his horrid face.
“You don’t matter! You don’t matter!” sang the sink.
Collins John now sobbed so hard he could no longer speak. The floor around him was covered with tears, thousands of confused, bitter tears. And that’s where the sea comes from, said my Dad. He is a very wise man, and I’m going to grow up to be a power ranger. For Christmas I am getting a train set that goes “choo choo! choo choo!”. Choo Choo Choo Choo Choo Choo Choo Choo
