TOILET TURNS INTO SPACE-TIME PORTAL WHEN FLUSHED

“AFTER ABOUT SIXTEEN FLUSHES AND THE TOILET SPITTING UP VIKINGS, I STARTED TO GET SUSPICIOUS,” SAYS OWNER.

The hand is extended, trembling above the lever. Slowly it grips the wooden extension. A voice asks, “Are you ready?”

This WEEKLY WORLD NEWS reporter nods.

WWN knows that this lever, when pushed, will create a time/space vortex that will allow a short burst of past history to roam the earth once again. Are we at NASA? Are we at a secretive society of scientists’ lab?

No, we are in the second-floor bathroom of Rudolph Bennigan, whose toilet, when flushed, discharges people and animals from the past, who wreak havoc in this suburb of Holy Cove, New Hampshire, for twelve hours straight. Then they disappear.

Says Rudolph, still clutching the toilet lever; “I really didn’t know anything about this house, until after I moved in. All I knew was that the previous owner, Seth Fishwiper, was seriously injured in an encounter with a herd of buffalos. I didn’t think that was a big deal.”

As it turns out, the house was built by Sir Randolph Junga, a disciple of British occultist Aleister Crowley. Junga, who was an occultist, a DIY inventor and a professional prognosticator, made sure the house lived up to its occultist/science specifications.

“You’ve probably noticed how wide the stairs are, leading up to this crapper,” Rudolph says. “It’s all steel. Girder-like steel. I suppose Junga built them to support the occasional dinosaur or elephant.”

Some of the oldest citizens in the neighborhood were children when Junga and his wonders moved in.

“We thought he was weird but fun,” recalls creaky Pricilla Fuplip. After the Barbarians showed up with the gorillas and the galloping knights, we were hooked. He was the man!”

JUNGA TACKLES THE TERRIFYING TOILET!

Junga figured he’d be running his occultist life when the bills from his toilet visitors’ stays started coming in. It was a financial loss because of this terrifying toilet he’d created. So, the room was bricked up. Forever. Each successive member of the Junga family, who inherited the house, honored Papa Junga’s barrier.

However, when a doctor had a major seizure during an ordinary rectal exam, the last living Junga, Sam “Sparkles” Junga, died. It was the end of a dynasty.

The house was up for sale. Says (then) buyer Seth Fishwiper. “I buy the house. First thing: I see a bricked door upstairs. Of course, I’m gonna knock it down. I mean, it could be Al Capone’s hidden vault or something. I knock it down and find myself in a bathroom. What? Seriously? You’re gonna brick up the bathroom? Exhausted, I sat on the toilet. Did my business, then flushed. The next thing I know, a herd of buffalo charged out of the toilet, knocking me on my ass. I thought: nope!”

Current owner Rudolph Bennigan says, “I thought to myself, ‘well, it could just be a fluke.’ But after about sixteen flushes and the toilet spitting out Vikings, I started to get suspicious. That’s when I started researching the history of the house and such.

“I talked to the neighbors and apologized for the rhinos and Swedes. Surprisingly, a lot of folks thought it was great fun, minus the damage. I tried to figure out how to make a profit from this house, both for me and the town. I, and the majority of the town, agreed that we should cater to the ultra-rich to rent the house. A friend of a friend is a high roller realtor, so she tossed some names our way. So, as of today, I am announcing that Junga House will now be a B&B for the uber-rich and witless. Book our Midnight Flush.”

“THIS IS ALMOST A REVERSE TARDIS!”

This reporter makes a face. One usually associated with gas. “That’s it? You’re not going to try to get to the bottom of the toilet, so to speak?”

He blinks.

This reporter continues: “This is almost a reverse Dr. Who’s TARDIS.”

“What?”

“No, Who!”

“Who?”

“Exactly!”

After giving this scribe a “What are you a dope?” look, and this scribe giving him an “No, I’m not! But what are you?” expression in return,” he continues. “ As far as I can see, this is just a gift. Whatever comes out of the toilet immediately heads for our local park. It’s twelve acres with a man-made lake and a great playground. The warriors head for the playground and the animals, the lake. They just seem to calm down over there. Our citizens, too.”

He smiled a Cheshire Cat-like grin. “I intend to pump money into this town. Nobody will ever feel want, again, if they don’t mind a brontosaurus thundering around every now and then. We’ve started the B&B “Midnight Flush,” tours. You arrive early in the evening, have dinner, a séance, a Tarot Card session and…then..”

“Yeah, the Midnight Flush.”

“Don’t look down on me. I’m turning a bad thing into a good thing. And I just made my first six-figure booking: a couple with guests. I can’t give their names but will Harry and Megan suffice?”

TROUBLE WITH RIVERS?

This reporter’s eyes widen, but it just could be the meds.

At that point, Rudolph flushes the toilet. The entire bathroom shakes as a small vortex appears in the swirling toilet water. It grows bigger and bigger until it takes over the room, uniting it with time and space. The toilet surges and spits out two dozen beautiful, laughing mermaids along with a resplendent waterfall.

Rudolph whoops. “Come on down the waterslide,” as the water and the mermaids splash down the steel staircase.

This reporter hesitates. “But…this isn’t the real world! In twelve hours, t’ll be gone!”

“Are you a fan of the real world?” Rudolph calls as he jumps into the cascading water.

This is Brick Rivers signing off while diving into the waterfall.