Tag Archives: toilet

The Continuing Adventures of the Plunger Avenger

About four years ago (wow, that was a long time) I wrote this post about one of my many superhero identities.  This is a post of the continuing adventures of the Plunger Avenger as she branches out from the toilet to the general vicinity of the bathroom.

When the toilet is in crisis who comes to the rescue? THE PLUNGER AVENGER! She is fierce, she is fearless, she can wield a plunger like no other. She can take down ninjas with one swift suction to the face.

Someone flush multiple toothbrushes down the toilet? Call the Plunger Avenger!

Hair bands, elastics, scrunchies? Call the Plunger Avenger!

Perhaps you snuck some forbidden treats from the cupboard and wish to hide the evidence. Did the thick plastic wrappers get stuck part way? Have no fear, call the Plunger Avenger, and for a fee (namely chocolate) you might be able to buy her silence.

Ever tried flushing a pair of child’s sunglasses down the toilet that have lost their lenses? That one is a bit trickier and will often take the Plunger Avenger’s sidekick to defeat – the Snake is a good one, or sometimes it calls for the Wrench Master (for toilet removal).

The Plunger Avenger is on call twenty-four hours, seven days a week and has just one request: KEEP THE BATHROOM DOOR CLOSED!!!  The toilet has many dastardly capabilities, it can hide unwanted broccoli (my kids haven’t done this to my knowledge, nor did I, but I am sure someone somewhere has), send fish and squirrels to a watery grave, or steal your most prized possessions.  Avert this and all other tragedies and CLOSE THE DOOR!!

As the Plunger Avenger I would like to share this disastrous foray into the bathroom that had nothing to do with the toilet today and would have been avoided altogether if THE DOOR HAD BEEN CLOSED.

It started with an open door, beckoning the two-year-old to the mysteries of the bathroom and beyond. A vortex that sucks toddlers, squirrels, and other curious creatures in and spits them out only after they have undergone hideous transformations.

James was such a victim. The Plunger Avenger did not become aware of the situation until it was too late and the little tyke staggered out, screams tearing from his young little lungs, his eyes squinched shut as great gobs of goo oozed down the side of his face.  He staggered toward her, a strange sort of alien being, slimy and smelling of coconut, his arms outstretched with pitiful wails of “owie!”

The Plunger Avenger knew right away he was a victim of the evil villain Sham Poo, which the older girls keep locked away tight in a bottle lest he escapes and attacks the younger children. He’s quite dangerous and, as is prone to do, went right for the young boy’s head and eyes, depositing gobs and gobs of his viscuous goo all over his head. It slumped over his left eye and trailed down his cheek. The boy’s attempts to wipe it way, only made it foam and rubbed it in.

The Plunger Avenger had to act fast to defeat Sham Poo. The worst was already done, but she knew she had to wash away his gooey slime. She sent her PAT (Plunger Avenger in Training) to trap Sham Poo back in his bottle and CLOSE THE BATHROOM DOOR, while she snatched the little screaming James into her arms and dashed at super sonic speed into her bathroom with the removable shower head.

The boy’s eyes were shut tight, and his cries began to ease and he thought perhaps he could open his eyes, but to no avail, the goo was still there and great cries of  “owie!” permeated the premesis.  He tried this a few times until he decided it was better to keep them closed for good.

The PA turned the shower on and began to rinse the goo away. It was thick and coated the boy’s head, face and shirt. She rinsed for well over five minutes, leaving the boy gasping as she sprayed water time and time again in his face. Finally he was stripped down and completely clean, if still smelling of the evil Sham Poo’s coconut scent. She rinsed his eyes for nigh on fifteen minutes before leaving the screaming little soul to peace.

After much consolation and coaxing the little boy opened his red little eyes to a world of wonder. The Sham Poo’s goo had left its mark and would sting for quite some time, but he had the Plunger Avenger to cling to for comfort solace.

As a reminder to all who dare tresspass into the deadly vortex that is the bathroom, just SHUT THE DOOR and let the  evil within alone.


Filed under Children, Every Day Life, Humor, James

Golden Ground Squirrel

Here I sit, a turban upon my head (I just got out of the shower – a day when you’re lucky to even make it to the shower with kids about), a plate of brownies, and a tall glass of iced milk as my companions. (I know, my husband has already declared me the strangest person he knows because I put ice in my milk.) My turban makes me feel wise, all-knowing, ok, well extremely goofy, but I like the all-knowing part. The brownies help balance out my vigorous walk this morning, and the milk is the healthy part of my diet. heh. Ahh, but I forget myself, this is all to set the mood for the story I am about to write. The failing fluorescent light flickers dimly above me (apparently I’ve forgotten to turn it off) and the warm yellow glow of the desk lamp illuminates the keyboard, as I type this very sentence.

The tale I am about to tell is a tragic comedy, or a comedic tragedy, and takes place some 15 years ago or so, when I was but a young lass on summer vacation during high school. (mmm, you should try these brownies . . . )

The little black nose sniffed delicately at the crackers and glanced suspiciously around. Free food? A hesitant paw reached out and snatched up the first one and then began to follow the trail. A small delicate golden figure weaved drunkenly between the trail of crackers, no doubt suffering from an overdose of cracker preservatives. At one point the little figure stops and eyes the end of the trail warily, the last of the crackers is sitting in a soft squishy cup, the color of pale peach roses. It seems to be attached to something large with big eyes (and rather ferocious teeth behind the attempt at a smile). It can’t understand the strange babble coming out of its mouth. He eyes it warily, stationary, still. The strange thing quits making noises and sits quiet, and motionless. Cautiously the little figure creeps up, slower and slower, until it is eating out the soft squishy cup and doesn’t even realize the box being placed around it.

“We got it!” I was excited as my mom dusted off her hands. We had entertained a number of the small rodent society, namely chipmunks, but here I had a Golden Ground Squirrel (which looks amazingly like a chipmunk). We weren’t being mean, the squirrel had been dashing about the parking lot from one car to another begging and had become so tame it was going to be killed, so we had decided to capture it, enjoy it at home for a while and then let it go in some wild place far from cars. My mother lovingly built a giant tower cage with branches of all shapes and sizes, and a food shute that closed from the outside. The little squirrel seemed very happy among the giants he was so curious about.


“Ahh, we’re home!” I sighed as we pulled up in the driveway, home was a beautiful sight after 14 long hours in the car. We extricated our legs from the pressing confines of our automobile and stretched our weary muscles. I eyed my mom as she and dad walked into the house. I knew where they were headed . . . I believe in honoring your mother and father but when it comes to hitting the bathroom after a long road trip, it’s every man for himself, and I charge in the house, exclaiming, “Gotta go! Gotta go!” The wild race was on. Dad hit the main bath first and Mom and I surged on to the master bath. She beat me by a tenth of an inch. I turned laughing, to dance before either door until they opened, when my mother gave a surprised exclamation, “Oh dear!”

“What’s up?” I asked inquisitively.
She pointed to the toilet. There floating sadly in the toilet was our sweet little ground squirrel. The only thing I could think to say was, “He had to pee? I didn’t realize he was house broken!”
When greeted by a dead squirrel in your toilet, it is a bit hard to be sad and sympathetic. Things like, “his poor little legs couldn’t reach”, “I didn’t think you ate squirrel, let alone whole!” or “mom! I didn’t think you had it in you” etc, kept floating to my brain interchanged with bursts of laughter. I charged through the house sounding the alarm, “The squirrel drowned in the toilet!” Soon the family was gathered in a solemn memorial around our toilet, gazing into the bowl, with somber expressions upon our faces, an intermittent chuckle scattered here and there. It was discovered that the young man watching our animals while we were away didn’t fasten the food hatch securely and the squirrel wanted to explore his new home a little more extensively than he was preciously permitted. The cause of death was drowning. But I have yet to decided if he was trying to pee, or just thirsty.

In the end, all I can say is, (quoting ‘Anne of Green Gables’) “I suppose it was a romantic way to die, for a squirrel.”

This post was inspired by Perpetual Chocoholic (and follow up) Oooh, and “to pee a squirrel” has an entire different meaning to me! lol! 🙂


Filed under Goofs, Humor, Memory, Youth