C4 antho - Chamber Four

~34~ The Chamber Four Fiction Anthology
Three hours later―having sent in the camera, viewed
footage of dense video grain, retracted the cable, and shook it
near his ear several times―the plumber got off his knees and
sent out a request for the two Chickens to come into the
room. He spat into the bowl, sending a sheet of honey-like
liquid over the edge. A dry spider scaled the edge of the
crumpled toilet paper cozy and dodged in and out of sight.
Mal (who had never left) poked his head into the hallway and
called for his mother. She came, nearly tripping over the
cheap gold molding missing a cheap gold screw, one hand
lifting a sweaty lock of hair from her cheek and the other
holding the prodigal plastic cap. Hobie glanced from one
Chicken to the other, panning for a visual clue that would explain
what was wrong with their pipe.
The Chickens looked at each other and then back at him.
Malchicken leaned into the monitor and examined his reflection.
Mrs. Chicken whispered “Problem?” and handed him
the plastic cap. The sewer man turned his gaze into the hole
and said very slowly and very loudly, as if addressing non-
English speakers. “What...all did you throw down there?” In
his voice was the hope that one of the Chickens would fess up
to jettisoning a weird exotic baby animal or a portion of unfinished
potato salad, but no go. Mrs. Chicken looked to her
son for a response. Mal was busy wondering if shaking his
head would be a bad answer or a good one. The plumber
growled with impatience. Mrs. Chicken started to nod and
then changed it to a no, and then nodded.
“Honest injun. No. Nope. Nothing. It’s just...just...well.
That’s it. Just us. Down there.”
“Well,” the plumber said without conviction. “I am blasting
water like the dickens through there and can’t move this
thing a friggin’ inch.” He wagged the cable at them.
“Broken?” asked Mal, reaching for the camera.