Mr. Jen Wishes You A Crappy Easter: A Holiday Interlude

FADE IN:

INT. BEDROOM, EVENING.

JENNY TROUT, a paragon of beauty and grace, sits in bed beside her husband, MR. JEN, a heretofore unknown ogre of a human being.

MR. JEN
I don’t know if…I think you probably already heard this before.

JENNY
Uh…

MR. JEN
At Easter, I clogged the toilet twice, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just left.

JENNY
What?

MR. JEN
I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, so I just left.

JENNY
Twice?

MR. JEN
Twice.

JENNY
I don’t understand…was this last year?

MR. JEN
No, this was a long time ago. Years and years ago.

JENNY
Why are you telling me this now?

MR. JEN
I thought you would already know!

JENNY
How the hell would I know that? Was this…I mean, was it twice in the same year or–

MR. JEN
No! God, no. It was two separate years.

JENNY
Oh, thank god. I thought it was twice in the same year, and I couldn’t figure out how you pulled that off. I mean, physically, I don’t know how someone could do that twice in one day. The giant poops and the leaving. I can’t get my head around this. Why didn’t you say something?

MR. JEN
What was I supposed to say?

JENNY
I don’t know, why not, “I need a plunger?”

MR. JEN
Oh, okay. I’ll just go up to someone and say, “Can I have a plunger? I just destroyed your shitter. It’s choking on it real good.”

Jenny reaches for her laptop.

JENNY
I need to do something.

MR. JEN
Do not put that on Facebook! Do not!

JENNY
Not Facebook! I’m putting it on the blog.

MR. JEN
I swear to god, if you put that on Facebook, I will never go to another Easter ever again. Ever.

JENNY
Chill out! I said I was putting on the blog.

MR. JEN
Okay. Wait, no, because what if someone in your family reads it?

JENNY
Nobody in my family reads my blog.

MR. JEN
But what if Kari or somebody reads it?

JENNY
Who the fuck cares if Kari reads it? You would finally be a part of the family! How many stories do we tell about who clogged the toilet on this vacation or which kid had the stinkiest diapers?

MR. JEN
True.

JENNY
You would finally be a real Armintrout. Because you destroyed someone’s shitter.

FADE OUT.

THE END

16 thoughts on “Mr. Jen Wishes You A Crappy Easter: A Holiday Interlude

  1. This is why I know, when we eventually have our giant “meet up in person” party, Mr Jen will feel right at home. The ‘compare and contrast’ convos alone….

  2. I have destroyed so many shitters that whenever we go to his parents he makes sure there is a plunger in the appropriate bathrooms. Nice job Mr. Jen!

  3. There are two shitters at my house and Mr Jen would not be allowed to use the one on the top floor because that one gets clogged ridiculously easily.

  4. Embarassing confession time: My Beloved has nick-named me Magic Bum Lady, because for such a petite woman, I sure clog the shitter an awful lot.

    He thinks I must contain a paradoxical amount of crap, as if my lower intestine is joined to some kind of multi-dimensional poo vortex (a Turdis, if you will).
    I think it’s more to do with the amount of paper I use in order to avoid the poo-hands.

    Anyway, I once blocked the bog at his mum’s house, and even more than an hour and about 10 kettles of hot water later, I still hadn’t shifted it… but most of the problem was no longer visible, so we just gave up and left (his mum had already left for work before I used the bathroom, so if the loo bleach didn’t work its magic, she wouldn’t find out until we were well away).

    Ugh, I’m cringing so hard just thinking about it. Sorry, Gail.

  5. Accidentally clogging a toilet is one of my biggest nightmares! A friend of my aunt clogged a public toilet once. She couldn’t find a plunger so she used paper to pick up her mess and put it in the trash bin with some paper over to cover it! Then she walked out of the store as fast as she could and never went back.

    During an exchange, my host’s shower drain somehow got clogged when I took a shower. I panicked and starting stomping the water down the drain while simultaneously crying and shoving water into her sink.

  6. Shocking, the dark secrets we hide from our loved ones. May I suggest marriage counseling and our family’s favorite tool, the toilet snake?

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