It all started with a knock on the door this morning- with a really nervous guy asking me to not use the kitchen sink. I already knew trouble was in the air because when you live up five flights of stairs NOBODY knocks on your door unless something is going down. Five minutes later another guy comes knocking on the door and pleads with me to not use any sink in the apartment.

As I descend the steps to the ground floor, I enter a war zone. I realize that my building pipes are lot like a sausage factory, I'm happy with the product but I have no interest in knowing how they function. This becomes even more apparent as I see what damage this monster has wrought on what used to be a suitable living space. All of the apartment doors are open and plumbers stream in and out like ants, screaming "Mayday!" and "Oh my god we lost Lou!". Power tools and hammers grind and pound over their panicked outbursts, as shit streams down the walls like we're in the poop themed sequel to Amityville Horror. I move to the doorway of our building and see a stream of brown water streaming down like a sprinkler from the light socket. I, like the coward I am, turn tail and move back to the relative safety of my abode.

But, the workers eventually make their way into my apartment, ready to tear the ancient copper arteries from their prewar sockets. As they lay down paper and move our various trinkets of happier times aside, I take a moment to bid farewell to the pristine white walls that I’ve come to call home. I don’t know what’s coming, but I imagine it will be dark, overwhelming, and probably smelling of shit.

EDITOR'S NOTE:

I just asked the plumber, "So, the pipe burst?"

He replied, "No the pipes are gone."

That sounds about right.