Last month, the sump pump gave out and Management had to call in a repairman.  The repairman took one look inside our septic tank and refused to deal with what he saw in there.  Who the Hell flushed a glow-in-the-dark skull with flashing red eyes?  

And the mop.   How on Earth did you manage to flush a mop, stick and all, for chrissakes?  After the septic repairman fled the trailer park, Edgar the maintenance guy had no choice but to hang head-down on his belly into the pump housing and fish all that stuff you idiots flushed down your toilets out of the septic tank with his bare hands.  

Poor Edgar couldn't quit gagging, especially when he discovered how many old folks in Tinbox Acres flush their Depends undergarments.

One other thing that has Management concerned this month is that contraption hanging in the tree down by the duckpond.  What is that thing?  It had better not be another medieval implement of mass destruction, Management can tell you that right now.  It just better not be destructive, period.

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