MEXICAN PLUMBING
By Maggie Stoffels

His ablutions completed, he pulled the plug. The water was draining again at a quarter of its normal speed, pooling in the bottom of the basin leaving the dirty scum line and a puddle in the bottom. Blast! He looked, poked and prodded with a screwdriver, but with no discernable results. A small piece of stained silicon flicked up into his face, and what appeared to be a very large glob slid back down. He took one last look at it and unscrewed the pipe to the basin. “Well that’s a start,” he thought, “I’ll tackle it tomorrow. That interminable concrete covering all the pipes, I just wish I could see what's underneath.”

Somewhat restless he went to bed. The usual night-creature noises kept him awake that night. There was a scrabbling sound. It sounded too close, inside almost. There it was again, from the bathroom? All the gaps had been sealed, nothing could get in, but there it was again. The unscrewed pipe flashed in his mind. With a flashlight in hand, he tiptoed to the bathroom and flashed it at the open pipe. Instantly he recoiled. Two unblinking eyes on a reptilian-looking head stared at him. The body presumably was inside the pipe! Was that the dark glob that had disappeared when the silicon had flicked him in the face?

The unknown head slid back down the pipe. Pulling back onto his haunches, he picked up the screwdriver left in readiness for the morning. How could he get it out? How did it get in? Could it get enough leverage from the inside to help itself? Could he save it? What was it? Was it dangerous? Could anyone ever sleep in the room again knowing that there was something hideous lurking down there? You could never use the plumbing again.

He would have to do it. Silently he went for his tool kit. The hammer was on top. He returned with it and impatiently waited. His calves were stiff, the pins and needles were stronger now in his feet, but he dare not move. It must be quick and accurate. His heart beat even louder; it seemed to be rising to his throat. The scrabbling alerted him. The head showed itself again. With one well-aimed hammer blow to the head it was dead. Almost simultaneously, with a strong thrust of the screwdriver he speared it straight through the neck. The head jerked forwards, skewered across the top of the pipe. It could no longer slide back. With one hand on each end of the screwdriver, he pulled. It was wedged in tightly. The thing was moving. He pulled some more and still it came, until the last of the 20-inch creature released with a
sickening sucking sound.

He toppled backwards, still clutching the screwdriver with its speared creature. It fell onto his chest, its eyes still open, staring. Appalled, he leaped to his feet rushed to the toilet and gagged. It was an elongated dark iguana grown to fit the pipe. "It must have fallen in while only a baby, probably lived under the house and couldn't get out." The mental justifications were not adequate for this gentle soul. The eyes and the long, thin reptilian body would not leave his mind.

I heard the sounds in the kitchen of tea making, and ventured forth. His distraught manner and ashen face distractedly sipping the hot tea prompted questions. Haltingly, I drew the horror of his night from him. I poured a couple of wines. After sitting and supping a little, he relaxed. It was now 3 a.m. I took the glasses into the kitchen to rinse. The water was pooling in the bottom of the sink. Involuntarily, I let out a cry. “Oh no! This is too much.” We looked at each other. “This one is mine,” I said. Taking the screwdriver, I started to prod down the drain hole. There was something solid there. His face blanched, but he gallantly took the screwdriver from my hands and undid the connection under the sink. “At least we can reach it this time,” I countered.

I had steeled myself, but involuntarily jumped as I felt two separate parts through the black rubber pipe. "This one must be dead, it didn’t move." With my heavily gloved hands, I slit open the black rubber and jumped back. A large u-shaped piece of concrete fell out. We fell about laughing; then, full of confidence, I reached in with my gloved hand and extracted the other piece. Some careless worker had cleaned up his concrete in my sink. It had solidified in the u-bend of the pipe. The horrors of the night were erased.