Last week I had a sausage in the pipe situation and had to tell E in the office to please call the landlord to send a plumber. This week he came, he saw, and he conquered. The Japanese plumber is not the same as what Hollywood has so influenced me to expect. He came with a tiny plastic bag which included nothing that resembled any kind of plumbing tools. Anyway, he came in and he was super polite as usual and I stood there looking a bit embarrassed as he crouched down and started to open up the pipe. I heard him screamed a bit and he fumbled around for ages until he said he couldn’t find the sausage. He said the bill was going to be about $30 and I asked if he was sure and he looked again and that’s when he said he had found the victims – the sausage-fork duo.

The poor man suffered for ages with his hands down the pipe because his little stupid plastic bag didn’t even include a torch, let alone a tweezer like device to get the sausage out. Soon enough, I had to get involved with my phone. As we were crouched under the tiny sink with our heads banging occasionally, he suddenly looked up, took my phone, grabbed my hand and said something along the lines of your hands are tiny – go in there and grab them and all I could mutter weakly was that I would not like to grab the sausage with my bare hands. It did not work of course because before I knew it, my hands were in the pipe searching for the pork. But alas my fingers were too short and it was not a success both our dismay. He started looking aorund my kitchen and he found the most Japanse solution to my problem – chopstick! So he decided to use MY chopsticks because again, his stupid plastic bag did not contain anything remotely useful for this predicament that we were in ( yes I know – I am solely responsible for this whole incident). Eventually he got the sausage and the fork out of the pipe and once he was done, he held the sausage in front of my face and shook it and said some stuff in Japanese I did not understand. I have never ever had a man shook a sausage in my face threateningly my entire life and this is not a sexual innuendo – so all in all, this has been an experience. Also we asked the man and he said it is quite a common occurrence to have sausage casualties in the pipes. So there you have it – I am not alone in this plight of slippery fingers.

I paid, he left and the end. Success! Now my nickname in the office is Pork in the Pipe and I am the butt of all jokes and inappropriate innuendos until next time I do something more ridiculous I guess.

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