Pipe Dreams
Paul woke to find the kitchen sink stopped up, filled with dingy, gray, stagnant dishwater. Tossing a towel at the mess, he hollered for his roommate. “Corey!”
No answer, of course. Last night Corey had sworn the sink wasn’t clogged. “Just give it a few hours,” he’d said.
Paul should’ve known better than to believe him. How am I supposed to clean this up? he wondered. And where the hell was Corey, anyway?
As if in reply, the phone rang.
“Not now,” Paul growled as he gingerly fished the towel from the water. The phone rang again, shrill, insistent. “I said not now!”
The answering machine clicked on, and Corey’s bright voice filled the apartment. “Hey, Paul. I just wanted to tell you the kitchen sink is clogged “
No s**t. Dropping the towel on the counter, Paul hurried to
