According to the Conmanaho medicine man who does my plumbing, my toilet is a sacred space, a place of mystery and of pilgrimage that requires constant attention from a powerful scrubbing action shaman such as himself.
"Heap big blockage in u-bend pipe." he told me. "Like buffalo turd not finding proper path to return to land of its forefathers."
We lit a stick of special bleach scented incense and let it burn on top of the cistern.
"Evil spirits dwell in shower faucet." he added. "So water sometimes run tepid and nozzle gets clogged."
"How do we get rid of them?"
"Conmanaho medicine man will return tomorrow with spirits of ancestors and clean hard to reach areas with telescopic totem pole style sponge mop. It not cheap, though."
"How much?" I asked.
"Four hundred dollars." he replied.
My pale face suddenly went paler: "But that's outrageous."
"Householder make low whistling noise with forked tongue. Price very reasonable for performance of ancient Conmanaho tribal ceremony." he explained.
What a load of sitting bull! It's always the same with these people.
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