667
by CDFingers
Oh, a broken snake! I've done that, man.
It was in 1977 when I lived with a bunch of hippies one of whom remains my wife, and we had an issue in the kitchen. Back then, we never asked how a sweat sock became wedged in the J trap under the sink. We merely confronted the problem as if we had just gotten out of bed to confront the thing. Which we had, and it was three in the afternoon. So, sure, it was me who had to do it, as the rest of my buds were still considering how their hands could move all by themselves, even in the sunlight. So I schlepped out to the garage to get the snake I'd bought last time Logon's belt had somehow gotten down in the toilet--at the time he had a real vindictive girl friend who just could not stand oatmeal, but that's another tale.
So I got the snake and went to work. Hand cranked snakes are pretty straight forward to operate, so even as fuzzy as I was, I could work it. But I did not know until later why the snake caught on the sock and broke while I tried to torque it out. >clink< was the sound when the springy snake broke. So there's this broken snake down in the right hand sink, which bent underneath to the left sink wherein resided the garbage disposal. That wrench in the above pic? Had it in my trunk.
I had to take apart both sets of pipes from left and right sinks, take out the garbage disposal, and dismantle the connection between the J and the pipe in the wall to discover that Logon's girlfriend had tried to run the sock through the garbage disposal with his house key in the toe. Like I said, vindictive.
Snakes cost twenty bucks, worth every penny. I've had a dozen since then, and that one wrench--prolly cost twenty bucks.
CDFingers
Crazy cat peekin' through a lace bandana
like a one-eyed Cheshire, like a diamond-eyed Jack