Scott Harris

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
One humorous short story from my collection of 101. Originally grouped in a book titled Utter Nonsense. Fun Factoid: I wrote the stories one per day for 101 days straight.

Submitted: February 13, 2016

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Submitted: February 13, 2016

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Scott Harris


Scott Harris held a P.H.D. in Advanced Clinical Psychology. It had taken him seven years to earn at a cost $127,438.16 in student loans. It was a ridiculous sum and, at an annual salary of $40,000.00, it would take thirty years to pay off. Nine months, two weeks and one day after graduating, he finally landed a job. He became a plumber’s assistant, working for his brother-in-law, Ted, earning $10.75 an hour.

Scott hated the inadequate pay, and the lack of respect from his coworkers, but he could handle all that. What he couldn’t handle was the constant humilation heaped on him by Ted. Ted loved the fact that Scott, with his fancy degree, had to answer to him, and he let everyone know it. This morning was no different.

“Gotta clogger here!” Ted barked, bursting from his office and gleefully waving a work order for the entire shop to see. “Looks like you’re up, Doc.” Scott scowled and reached for the order.

Ted yanked it back at the last moment and sneered beneath his bushy mustache, “Try not to do a shitty job.”

Funny, Scott thought, heading for the door as the other plumbers chuckled. Before he got to the exit the senior plumber, Ox, stopped him.

“Remember,” Ox said, placing his arm around Scott in a fatherly gesture, “snake the toilet, not the customer.” Raucous laughter broke out as Scott slipped from Ox's embrace and retorted, "Thanks, Dad. Thanks a lot!"

He found the job address in a run down trailer park. It was dilapdated 1970s Silver Bullet towing trailer nestled inauspiciously on a small lot behind a painted plywood yard sign in the shape of a happy green frog waving a top hat and proclaiming, "Welcome!"

Scott knocked gently on the door and woman answered immediately. “Thank God yer here!” she breathlessly exclaimed around her cigarette. She was wearing a shower cap and a garbage bag over her clothing. Scott double checked his work order, “Judy Fitsimmon?”

“Yeah ‘at’s me,” Judy answered. She grabbed Scott by the arm and tugged him down a narrow hallway carpeted in orange shag which squelched as they walked. “This is all my husband’s fault,” she snarled. “Yesterday he bet his friends he could eat a cheese ball as big as his head. My sister sent it to us for Christmas. I warned him it would end bad but you know men."

Scott figured he did.

Now this mornin’ the genius goes and plugs our only toilet. She stopped in front of a wood paneled door with blue and pink butterfly stickers on it and looked pointedly at Scott. Smoke billowed from her nostrils as she said, “At least he won the bet.”

She opened the door and water oozed into the hall. The entire floor of the bathroom was flooded under about an inch of water. A few odd Q-tips floated on its glistening surface. In the middle of this tiny artificial lake was Judy's husband. He perched on the toilet like a king surveying his court from his throne. The stench was awful! Scott pulled his shirt collar over his nose and shot Judy a wide-eyed, questioning look.

She sucked on her cigarette, seemingly oblivious to the overpowering smell. “I told him you was on yer way but, as you can see, his highness won’t get off.” She hollered at her husband, "Time to pinch it off, Kenny!"

From the toilet Kenny threw her an irritated glare before his face contorted and he grunted and pushed with all his might.

A renewed blast of fecal odor hit Scott like a city bus and for a terrible moment his eyes crossed and he felt he might pass out.

As Scott steadied himself on the room's tiny sink, Kenny's face relaxed and he spoke for the first time, “You'' hafta hang on, pal. I’m ridin' a three pound cheese train here and it ain't exactly the express. Ya know what I'm sayin?”


© Copyright 2019 John McGray III. All rights reserved.

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