What you see here is what the toilet in my apartment looks like. Do not attempt to apply logic to its design. That will only result in loss of faith in humanity. I was gonna write another shit-story today, but it seems the issues Kinja was having have been resolved. Seems one was enough to spur them into action.

After particularly difficult experiences with these abominable toilets, I tend to relieve my frustration out on Facebook. The following is the first post I made, after moving into this apartment:

European toilets. It is the bane of my current dwelling. A proper stool cannot be had here. Cables shall reach its deepest depth with ease. Cutting off early, leaves a sense that your newborn brown baby is still standing straight up. But you know in your heart of hearts that it slumped to the side, leaving a stain that cannot be cleansed by the torrent that is to come, not without manual labor.

Once the deed is done, the one who believes that with the power of the flush, this nightmare can finally be over is in for a rude awakening. How many flushes did it take me to dispose of that leviathan? 10? 20? 30 maybe? All i know is that I was in there for what seemed like eternity, watching that brown behemoth laughing at me as each flush polished it and inched its way forward.

In the end I may have triumphed, but there is no sense of accomplishment, no feeling of victory over adversity, only dread. The kind of dread that comes with knowing that this is neither the end nor the beginning. It will happen again, it will keep happening, until there is nothing at all.

The following instance of frustration manifested itself in the form of a haiku.

Stooling is the goal

Dutch toilet is the challenge

Beware long cables

Then one day, the inevitable happened. Sure, it may take me 50+ flushes sometimes to down a stool. But I knew that one day, I would encounter one of such strength, that not even 100 flushes would be able to banish it. No, I don’t want to use the brush and have it caked with poo. But eventually I had no choice.

Well, it was only a matter of time. I go and drop a few logs onto the ol’ dining table and despite its counterproductive design it has somehow managed to pull through. But today it met its match. I was flushing for approximately 15 - 25 minutes. I kept thinking: “Just one more flush, maybe this time.” My optimism was in vain. I accurately determined that this pile of stool was much too strong for the flushing mechanism of this, so called, “toilet”. Thus I was forced to use a tool to give it the help it so desperately needed.

The creation of this ‘toilet’ is, quite frankly, a miracle. It defies all logical reasoning and justification. No human being should ever be such a fool. If they are, then for the love of everyone who enjoys a comfortable stool, lock them away, and never allow them to procreate.

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I’m the one in the truck. The other kid is the brain dead fool who designed these worthless toilets. But anyway, it seems like everything is back in order around here. I’m going to pretend like my post from yesterday was what motivated the individuals responsible into fixing the issues. Tomorrow it’s back to business as usual.

Papito Qinn is into the whole YouTube thing, is the winner of the 2016 SpookTAYcular Scary Story Contest, and a twitter incompetent. “Yeah! That’s what I thought, Bitch!”