That’s when he called Chuck. The number came from a fridge magnet left by the previous tenant: “A-1 Emergency Plumbers – We Come Before Your In-Laws.”
Chuck nodded slowly. “We finance through Synergy Credit. Twenty-three percent APR.” cost to unclog toilet
Leo had signed that lease. He had even read it, once, while waiting for a burrito. That’s when he called Chuck
Chuck leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not supposed to say this. Company policy. But if I were you… I’d buy a bucket of hydraulic cement from Home Depot. Twenty-eight bucks. And I’d fill that toilet bowl to the brim with it. Let it cure overnight. Then call the landlord and say ‘the toilet’s not working, seems like a building issue.’ He’ll have to replace the whole toilet to even start diagnosis. And by then, the roots will have grown another inch, and the main stack will be backing up into the basement anyway, which is his problem. You’ll be out a security deposit—maybe a grand—but you won’t owe twelve.” Twenty-three percent APR
Leo looked at the toilet. It sat there, white and serene, like a sleeping bomb. He thought about calling the landlord anyway. He thought about calling his dad. He thought about calling his ex-girlfriend, who had warned him about this apartment—“Leo, the baseboards smell like sadness”—and whom he had dismissed as paranoid.
“So how much?” Leo asked.
Leo looked up.