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This is a true retelling of an event that occurred a few years ago.  You may not want to read this while you're eating or if you're physically ill for some other reason.  I've changed the name of the third party for their protection from the obvious mockery that would ensue if anyone they knew were to find out about this story.

Akuoreo and I have lived together for about ten years now, and in that time we've had a number of roommates.  Most of them weren't terrible, but a few have done things that led to our decision to never have a roommate ever again.  Some of them were actually pretty scary, too, but none of them as genuinely, soul-grippingly terrifying as the tale of Dwight and the Meatloaf.

Anyone who knows us well knows that in the spring of 2007, Aku and I were effectively homeless.  For a few months, we lived in a tent in my dad's farm in the middle of nowhere.  Eventually, we were offered a slightly better place:  A trailer camper, tucked away behind one of my mom's houses.  We paid our way there, slowly buying the camper as we did so.  Just as we paid off the camper, I was made yet another offer for a place to stay.  My dad had bought a much nicer house up near his farm, and he didn't want his single-wide trailer to fall into disrepair, so for a very reasonable rate, we were allowed to stay there.  Eventually, we were able to get our old camper towed down there, which we used as a guest room.  Enter Dwight.

I had already known Dwight for quite some time as a member of an online community I dealt with.  I knew that he was a bit socially awkward, and he told me that living with his folks was getting oppressive, and that he longed for the freedom a means of living like ours offered.  So I offered him the camper, in exchange for paying some of our rent.  When he arrived, he actually expected us to completely care for him, paying for his food, his gasoline, and presumably anything else he wanted.  After pushing him into getting a job at the local(local here meaning ten miles away, it was literally the middle of nowhere) Pizza Hut, I made sure that he did whatever he needed to survive in the world.  Things went mostly fine, until Dwight came to our door one day asking to use the bathroom.  Immediately suspicious, I went into the camper to check its bathroom.

When we lived in the camper, I'd had trouble with the bathroom in there once before.  Eventually, unless you follow very specific steps, the septic system can get clogged.  That's why I'd taken steps to ensure it didn't happen with Dwight.  I bought him a large bottle of the septic chemicals that helped with any lingering odors and assisted with the breakdown of waste and instructed him to purchase a specific type of septic-safe toilet paper.  I had also personally dug a forty foot long, six foot deep trench, laid a sewer pipe, and hooked it into our septic line so that it could stay hooked up perpetually.

It turns out that none of this matters when your instructions are ignored.  The bottle I'd given him was still full, and the toilet paper had gone unused--where it should have been were a box of non-flushable baby wipes.  But the true horror was inside the toilet itself.  It hadn't just gotten to where it was draining too slow.  It hadn't just filled the 30+ gallon waste tank.  It had completely filled the entire toilet, no room left for water in the bowl, looking not unlike a towering meatloaf of human excrement.  Worse yet, lying next to the toilet was a garden trowel.  Its purpose immediately became clear to me.  He had used it to sculpt and pack the excrement into a shape that allowed him to use the toilet again.  Rather than reporting the problem when it was manageable, he instead chose to make it worse until there was nothing more that could be done.  I'm still not sure how I was able to avoid throwing up.

In the end, Dwight didn't even help to clean up his own mess.  I was forced to buy a tool to clean it out and go through the work of flushing the septic system(with new hoses so as not to contaminate the source of drinking water.  I asked him to pay for half of the costs for me to fix the problem, and this apparently led him to leave, heading back to be coddled by his relatives.  Years later, I would catch Dwight retelling his version of the story, whereupon he claims that I was a meanie who raised his rent because he had made a tiny mistake.  If only those he told knew the true horror.  On my end, it's become a running gag with my local friends.  One of them gave me a trowel as part of a Christmas gift.  He's an asshole.
I had to reupload this with a mature content warning because DA's policy is to remove it completely rather than just add the mature tag.
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:iconcore1948:
Core1948 Featured By Owner Sep 30, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
This is why some people just suck, seriously if you can’t even bother to fix the problem when it starts then get the other party involved rather than let it grow into a MOUNTAIN OF PROCRASTINATION!!!
Reply
:icongoodkittynyanchan:
GoodKittyNyanchan Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
:iconahehplz: I remember reading about this disaster.  They should've instead just hidden the work until nyu changed the tag or changed it for nyu and left a courtesy message.  At least there wasn't dry ice involved-nya. :heart: :iconazu-nyanplz:
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:iconlars777:
LARS777 Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2018
That was quite an amusing story
For someone who hasn't gone through with such a horrid fate XD
Reply
:iconyuukidesu9:
YuukiDesu9 Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2018  Student General Artist
Man, luckily Google Cache backed it up.
And goddamnit, DA.
Reply
:icondrvonschmeltwick:
DrvonSchmeltwick Featured By Owner Edited Sep 25, 2018  Hobbyist Artist
Fuckin' unbelievable. Bad DA. Bad.

A not-so smooth criminal, either.
Reply
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