There I was, blissfully enjoying the fact that I was not currently covered in human s**t, when suddenly I heard a gurgle from the bathroom. Confident that it was just another gremlin infestation, I sighed, got up, and went to give them a karate or two. What I found instead was poop. So very much poop, coming out from all the available orifices the bathroom had to offer. This was noticeably less sexy than it sounds.
There are good moves and bad moves in this situation. The good move: whimper a bit and call an expert. The bad move: panic, flush.
Have you ever seen a poop geyser? I have. It was thankfully less spraying and more bubbly than you'd expect, but still far below what an average person would consider glorious. By the time I was done containing the spillage from the fine raw sewage backup I had just experienced, I was literally scooping s**t in tiny cardboard party cups because they were the only barrier I had between liquefied feces and my hands. Note: There is no amount of gloves in the world that can make that job any more pleasant.
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