His name was Kevin. Kevin had recently discovered competitive eating videos on his phone. He wasn’t a competitor himself, but he admired the craft. That admiration, combined with a deep emotional void and a 12-pack of discounted burritos from the gas station, led to what historians would later call “The Great Logjam.”

But Kevin had already flushed again. A reflexive, terrified third flush. The water breached the rim. A brown, tragic tide spread across the white linoleum, lapping at his bare feet. He squeaked.

Desperate, Kevin resorted to the internet. “How to unclog toilet with poop” he typed frantically. The results were judgmental. Dish soap. Hot water. A wire hanger.

He poured half a bottle of Dawn into the bowl. Then a pot of boiling water. The water level rose further. Now the bathroom smelled like lavender-scented disaster.

He flushed again.

Panic set in. Kevin did what any 24-year-old man living alone would do: he called his mother.