"No Money Down the Drain"

By Jerry Zezima

If I started my own plumbing business, I would be like the Three Stooges, who played plumbers in one of their classic movie shorts and ended up flooding a house.

But if the drain in your shower ever gets clogged, I’m the guy to call.

Unlike Moe, Larry and Curly, I somehow solved that plumbing problem without turning our humble abode into SeaWorld.

My aquatic adventure began one recent morning when, in accordance with the strict guidelines set by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, I took a shower.

While working myself into a lather, I noticed that water was pooling around my feet instead of going down the drain (I refer to the water, not my feet, which could barely fit down a manhole).

I reported the issue to my wife, Sue, who thought the pipe was frozen.

“So how come all the other pipes in the house aren’t frozen?” I asked.

Sue sighed and said, “I guess we should call a plumber.”

“Water won’t go down the drain, but our money will,” I pointed out.

In a pathetic effort to save big bucks, I got a wire and tried to dislodge the clog. I might as well have used a strand of boiled spaghetti.

Next I got a screwdriver, but Sue thought I was screwy.

“I think there’s a hairball in there,” I told her. “It must be yours.”

I had an appointment that morning with my barber, Maria, an expert on hair.

“It can build up in the drain when you wash it,” she said. “But it’s conditioner that can really cause trouble because it mixes with the hair and gets all gunky.”

Maria’s husband, Carlos, a contractor, kindly gave me a Drain Weasel, a plastic contraption with a spinning handle and a long rod, at the end of which is a hook that locks onto hair clogs.

“Stick it down the drain and pull up the hair,” he said.

“In case it doesn’t work,” Maria said, “buy a liquid drain opener.”

I went home and tried the Drain Weasel. It got some of the hair up, but the clog was too thick to yank out, so I went to a home improvement store for the drain opener and spoke with a personable young staffer named Paul.

I told him about my dilemma and recounted other plumbing problems I have had.

“One time,” I said, “I dropped a small plastic plant down the toilet. It got stuck there and we had to call a plumber. He used a snake to dislodge it. Fortunately,” I added, “it wasn’t a poisonous snake.”

Then I told Paul about the time there was a clog in the slop sink in the laundry room.

“I called my mother, who doesn’t charge, and she suggested I remove the elbow,” I said. “I asked if that meant I’d need surgery. Anyway, I turned off the water, removed the elbow of the pipe under the sink and pulled out this disgusting ball of lint.”

“Your mom sounds handy,” Paul said. “My mother recently put together a storage cabinet. But I do the plumbing in the house.”

Paul said I should get the drain opener, pour 16 ounces down the shower drain and wait overnight for it to work.

I brought a bottle home, used the suggested amount and expected to wait hours for a satisfactory result.

Ten minutes later, I heard a gurgling sound. I thought it was indigestion. But it was the drain opener, which had dislodged the hairball and opened the drain.

That night, Sue took a shower and washed her hair. The water, shampoo and conditioner went straight down the drain.

“You saved us a lot of money,” she said. “You could be a master plumber.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said modestly. “But at least I’m better than the Three Stooges. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!”

Copyright 2026 by Jerry Zezima