Things That Got Flushed That Hadn’t Oughta

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Retrospectively Funny.”

Welcome Dear Readers.  The Daily Post’s writing prompt inspired me to dig up this old post I wrote about something that wasn’t funny at the time . . .

Toilet with flowers Linda Vernon Humor

I don’t mean to brag, but I have been using “the facilities” on my own now for over fifty years, and I know, firsthand, some crazy things that got flushed that hadn’t oughta.

Once, when I was four, my mother bought a batch of the most beautiful red apples you ever saw and displayed them on the table.  I asked for one, and my mother gave it to me.

I was an apple lover from the get go!

I took one bite and spit it out.

That’s because this apple was a deceitful type of apple, the kind that looks like it’s going to be delicious but, instead, tastes like dry, sandy-mush.

A couple of days later, I must have forgotten how horrible the apple tasted because I asked my mother for another one.  And she agreed, but only if I promised I wouldn’t take just one bite and spit it out. Who me?  Heavens no! Mother! Please! Don’t be ridiculous! She handed me an apple.

I took one bite and spit it out.

Even Eve didn’t have so much trouble with an apple.

Later in the week, I happened to walk by the beautiful red apples that were still sitting on the table (now we know why) and asked for another one. My mother wisely said no because there wasn’t any questions in her mind, by now, what I was going to do.

Well for some reason, I was set on it.  I began begging dramatically.  “Please Mother! Please!  I won’t spit it out! For the love of God,  I beg of you! I must have an apple if I am ever going to thrive!”

My mother acquiesced, handed me yet another apple along with a stern warning that she better not find this one in the garbage with one bite out of it

I took one bite and spit it out.

Ok, now I had a big problem on my hands.  Where to dispose of a big, beautiful red, sandy-mushy apple with one bite out of it.  I had to think, think! And quickly before my mother discovered the truth!

I made an emergency executive decision to flush it. So I went into the bathroom, looked both ways, threw the apple with one bite out of it into the toilet and pushed down the handle.

I was amazed when it actually went down!  Fabulous!  I dusted off my four-year-old hands and resumed playing.

Later that day I happened to walk by the bathroom just as my father was lifting the entire toilet, itself, off the floor.  I was flabbergasted!  I had no idea it would “do that!”

I still hadn’t put two and two together until I saw him reach his hand down the pipe and pull out a big beautiful red apple with one bite out of it.

Uh oh . . .

Shame quickly set it.  I couldn’t have felt worse if I would have gunned down Santa. But that’s another story for another day.

Suffice it to say, I’ve been privy to lots of things that got flushed that hadn’t outta — but it all started with that beautiful red apple with one bit out of it.

Until next time . . . I love you

17 thoughts on “Things That Got Flushed That Hadn’t Oughta

  1. I loved the puns you included, I think you’ve flushed a few of them as well.
    We learn the hard way with what flush and what not. I discovered flushable wipes are not what they say they are. I learnt this after a plumber had to come and clear the sewerage line. Needless to say I did flush with embarrassment.

    • Ha ha! All I can say is I hate when that happens! One time a cell phone got flushed in our household. Boy was that an expensive flushing lesson! The plumber and the new phone! OY!

  2. Aha! It ALL makes sense now!…..

    The writing, Peanuts, Bulwer-Lytton, the whole nine yards… it’s so clear!

    All you gotta do now is learn to make apple butter, as a form of penance, for the abuse you gave your Mom & Dad….Your karmic burden will be lifted!….

    gigoid, the dubious

  3. My wife recently went on a cleaning binge about the time Queen Elizabeth was set to celebrate her birthday. Prior to the expectation of Her Majesty’s arrival, I was assigned the chore of scrubbing the toilet.

    While polishing the ceramic throne, I wondered if the queen did her own paperwork or if one of the aides-de-camp attended to wiping the royal arse. At her advanced age, the terrain must be the texture of a prune. Bending over the bowl, I inhaled deeply, begging the bleach-infused cleaner to flush the aforementioned image from my mind.

    For a finishing touch, I installed a purple velvet ring cover and lowered the lid.
    Alas, the Queen never stopped by–or even phoned. How rude!

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