Slapstick is Dead?

Yesterday, life accidentally imitated art. Low, low art. We had a working brunch at the über-boss's swank apartment in the WV. Number one rule in your boss's swank apartment: Don't mess anything up.

Anyway, it was a lovely affair, and before leaving I headed to the bathroom, as I tend to do post-coffee + cider + mimosa. As I headed in, the intern coming out mentioned that the toilet was in a sort of continous flush spiral. There are worse things than I continuous flush, so I headed in. The toilet didn't seem to be flushing anymore, but as I went to flush, the handle wouldn't engage. I turned it in a few different directions, attempting to get it to catch, but after a few tries, it came off in my hands. Then the handle broke apart into two pieces. I screwed the top on and, realizing I couldn't screw the handle back onto the toilet, just stuck it on, figuring that's how it was to begin.

So I decided to flush the toilet manually. I lifted the porcelain top and tried to find the chain you pull to start the flush. But I hit something else first. A plastic tube snapped out of place and started SPURTING WATER ALL OVER THE BATHROOOM. I stuffed it back into place but it kept flipping out and spraying the floor. I creeped out of the bathroom and whispered to our branding guy to come help me. We eventually figured out how to get the tube snapped in, the toiled flushed, and we left the bathroom quietly. Hopefully the boss didn't suspect a thing...or at least understands. I hope. Yikes.