Son of a Plumber

TOWN HALL MEETING

JANUARY 9, 2023

VILLAGE COUNCIL CHAMBERS

337 FERLINGHETTI RD

LEBANON, KS, 66952

MINUTES

1. Call to Order. Mayor Hannigan called the meeting to order at 7:31 PM.
2. Roll Call. Members Present: Councilman Gill Worcester, Councilwoman Samantha Plezac, Councilman Douglas Wagstaff, Councilman Jacob Scott, Mayor Jill Hannigan. Absent: None.
3. Welcome to Visitors. Mayor Hannigan welcomed visitors and thanked them for their interest in town matters.
4. Public Comment on Agenda Items. Mayor Hannigan opened the floor up for any public comments related to the agenda. Lebanon resident Yuriah Buchanon expressed concern over the number of pigeons in the local area, claiming they (the pigeons) made it impossible to go to the Red Wave Cafe where he enjoys sitting at the counter with a cup of black coffee and eating an unwarmed blueberry muffin. Councilman Jacob Scott reminded the room that this is the time for comments on agenda items only. No further comments were made.
5. Financial Matters.
   1. November 2022 Financial Report. Councilwoman Samantha Plezac presented the report. Prior to completing her presentation, there was a loud commotion near the southeast doors of the Council Chambers.
      1. Former Lebanon resident Darin Albee, owner of Jetclean, America’s fourth largest manufacturer/distributor of bidets, appeared before the Council.
      1. Mr. Albee wore:
6. Blue overalls, no undershirt, a red trucker’s cap that read YOUR SHIT IS MY BUSINESS, glasses with yellow photochromic lenses, unlaced black boots. Also: Mr. Albee required the assistance of a cane to approach the podium. The cane itself consisted of two parts: 1) a thin wooden shaft, about four-and-a-half feet long, and 2) at the bottom of this staff, a black plunger’s flange.
   1. Audible gasps from others in the audience.
   1. Mr. Darin Albee wanted everyone to know that it was not his plan to be here today. In fact, a long time ago, he’d made a promise to never return to Lebanon, KS. But early this morning, while spreading margarine onto his toasted English muffin—Mr. Albee’s cardiologist made it quite clear that if Mr. Albee wishes to see 60, then, at the very least, he better substitute margarine for butter—he received an interesting and totally unexpected telephone call from one Maxwell Sturgeon, a longtime Lebanon resident and former childhood friend of Mr. Darin Albee. During this call, Maxwell Sturgeon informed Mr. Albee that, later on tonight, the town of Lebanon would be deciding how to spend the $1,300 budget surplus.
   1. Mayor Hannigan pounded her gavel. If Mr. Albee had consulted the agenda for tonight’s meeting, posted at every entrance as well as outside the Chambers’ doors, then he’d know that the vote to determine the usage of the $1,300 budget surplus wasn’t scheduled until the end of tonight’s meeting.
   1. Mr. Albee suggested that the vote be moved up to “right this frigging second.” He referenced councilman Douglas Wagstaff’s documented inability to remain engaged w/r/t “literally anything” after 8:00 PM. Mr. Albee then asked the entire room to notice that councilman “Wagstuff” was currently sleeping.
   1. It was moved by Scott and seconded by Plezac THAT public comment w/r/t the budget surplus be moved to NOW.
7. PUBLIC COMMENT RE BUDGET SURPLUS
   1. Mayor Hannigan began by reminding the audience that each speaker is allotted five minutes to speak. She also requested that the audience offer no feedback and/or explicit reaction to any individual speaker. I.e., no clapping, shouting, etc. This is NOT a question and answer session. She understands that there are a lot of emotions in the room at the moment but once again stresses the importance/need for the audience to remain civil and polite to each speaker, regardless of what is said.
   1. Former resident Darin Albee is firm in his conviction that there is singular just use of this surplus. He emphatically repeats the word just before asking if someone as corrupt and self-promoting as Mayor Hannigan can even comprehend what this word means. Because to him, this is the most important word there is. Just. His father—the late Mr. Filmore Albee—tried teaching him this, however, it wasn’t until long after he and his father’s relationship disintegrated that the word truly became important to Mr. Darin Albee. To this day, he carries a certain shame for how he treated his Pops. Perhaps councilman “Wagstuff” might recall the notorious fall of 93, aka, the “Autumn of the Upper Decker.” Or perhaps not, what with councilman “Wagshat’s” memory being what it is.

Anyways, back in the fall of 93, there was a ridiculous trend amongst the so-called youths to leave an upper-decker in public restrooms. An upper-decker, he clarifies, was where an individual left a “dookie” in the toilet’s tank. Once finished with their excretion(s), the perpetrator then ran out of the building while singing/bellowing the chorus from that same year’s smash hit single, “Whoomp! (There It Is)” by Tag Team.

Now, at the time, Mr. Albee was something of a “mega loner.” I.e., he spent much, if not all, of his time by himself, alone, sans friends. And he blamed his father for this, because of course he blamed his father. Kids do this, no? Former resident Albee confessed to feelings of shame/guilt/embarrassment w/r/t his Pops, who for two-plus decades operated as Lebanon’s lone plumber. Darin Albee believes that his Pops requires no introduction, such was the man’s profound impact on this specific community. He suspected that “every goddamn house in the whole goddamn town had our home phone number tacked onto their fridge.”

No: It wasn’t easy to be the son of a plumber. Or, correction. It wasn’t easy to be the son of the plumber. Kids, as everyone knows, can be oh-so-cruel. Mr.Albee then shared a series of childhood memories wherein he was the victim of such adolescent cruelty. E.g., boys pelted him with rolls of toilet paper; they hot-glued a laminated sign onto his desk at school that simply said Poop Boy; they referred to him as Drain instead of Darin; and a certain clique of girls—led by a teenage Jill Hannigan, he felt it prudent to add—would make a big dramatic show of pinching their noses anytime they passed him in the hall, as though he exuded an unpleasant/odious odor.

Then: one day at school, Mr. Albee was approached by Jim Pershie and Tyler “The Racoon” O’Toole. They wanted to extend an invitation to Mr. Albee to participate in their quest for the “ultimate upper decker,” which was to be executed at the public library, in the second floor restroom, in the handicapped stall.

Now, anyone who came of age in Lebanon during this period would already know that the public library was, by far, the most difficult/treacherous place to leave an upper-decker. This was because of the building’s octogenarian security guard, Mr. Lucas, who patrolled the corridors with a cadet’s dedication. Mr. Lucas was also highly skilled at discerning one’s intentions by just looking at them. I.e., if spotted by Mr. Lucas, the boys’ plot would almost certainly be exposed.

So, it was decided that Tyler “The Raccoon” O’Toole would create a diversion, thus allowing both Jim and Darin to safely reach the second floor restroom.

For this, Tyler “The Raccoon” O’Toole got down on all fours, right in the main lobby, and pretended he was an actual raccoon. Then, while Mr. Lucas struggled to stop him (Tyler) from chewing through the stack of complimentary bookmarks available at the front desk, Jim and Darin stole their way upstairs and into the restroom.

And the plan worked to a tee.

However, at the moment of truth, Jim Pershie got cold feet. Or, to be more accurate, he got stiff bowels. You should still try, though, Jim said. It’d be a waste to not even try.

Which was how it came to be that he (Mr. Albee) climbed onto the toilet seat, removed the tank’s lid, depantsed, and finally deposited his waste right into the tank’s clear water.

This act endeared him to the two other boys. For the first time in his life, Mr. Albee was in. And this was all he ever wanted. To be included. To be accepted. Golly, you should’ve seen his face when he walked home that evening! Former resident Albee averred that this was perhaps the single happiest moment of his entire life. He could still recall the way the trees and the sky looked on that momentous day. It was like everything was somehow realer than before. The colors, the leaves, the clouds. Everything seemed to be oozing with life. Everything shimmered.

But so you can imagine the shock/despair that overwhelmed him upon arriving back home and seeing, right there on the kitchen counter, a lidded mason jar containing the actual literal “dookie” he’d left back at the library.

Mr. Albee described how his father cooked the one and only meal he knew how to cook, spaghetti and meatballs, which the two of them ate while sitting across from each other at the dining room table, in the middle of which now stood, like some perverted centerpiece, the mason jar with his dookie.

Meanwhile, something weird was happening to Mr. Albee’s own digestive system that soon made swallowing impossible. But when he stood up from the table, as if to put his still full bowl in the sink, his Pops commanded him to sit back down and finish his meal.

His Pops alluded to the very notion of starvation, made multiple references to children in third-world countries, told Darin to eat, boy, go on, now, eat.

And oh, how he tried. But every time he went to swallow, his throat would constrict as though he were about to throw up and he’d have to spit whatever food was in his mouth back out into the bowl.

Then, while his Pops did dishes, Mr. Albee could’ve sworn he heard him whistling the chorus from “Whoomp!”

By the time his Pops returned to the table, the bottom ring of the mason jar now contained an oily brown residue. You have to learn to live with your own shit, son, was what his father said. You can learn a whole lot about yourself, and about others, and so in some sense about the world as a whole, too, by coming to terms with your own shit.

• When Mayor Hannigan notified Mr. Albee that his five minutes were up, Mr. Albee continued to speak. Mayor Hannigan again asked Mr. Albee to vacate the podium. Still, Mr. Albee continued to speak. Did everyone see what she was trying to do? Was everyone paying attention? Wake up, Wagstuff. Mayor Hannigan was trying to run right over the little guy. She’d been doing this to him since before he hit puberty. Mayor Hannigan interjected, asking Mr. Albee what exactly his purpose was here today.
• To get my father the justice he deserves!
•  So, this is about your father then.
• Of course! Of course it’s about his father. If it wasn’t for his Pops, none of you—here former resident Albee cast a sweeping forefinger at the long table of council members—would have a job still. In fact, he’ll take it one step further. If it wasn’t for Filmore Nathanial Albee and his courageous heroics, the very town of Lebanon would no longer be standing. Did Mr. Albee truly need to remind the council about “The Great Backup of 99”? Certainly, nobody in the audience required a reminder. Also, would someone wake Wagstuff up again? Resident Albee would hate to see him drool on that nice expensive sport coat he’s got on.
• Mayor Hannigan motioned to call local police and have them remove former resident Albee from the podium so that the Council could continue with their agenda. Council Jacob Scott seconded this motion. A voice vote commenced. Hannigan and Wagstaff: AYE. The rest: NAY.
• Mr. Albee then apologized to the Council. He said he wished things had not come to this. Prior to coming here, he sincerely hoped that the Council wouldn’t force him to do what he felt prepared to do if necessary.
• At which point Mr. Albee produced a small handheld device. The device itself was thin and rod-like. One end was flat; the other had a tiny red button. Mr. Albee, raising the device above his head, then listed off a series of plumbing-related words. Float. Overflow tube. Flapper. Did these words mean anything to the Council? What about shut-off valve? Or wax seal? Or, oh, what about floor flange? Again he asked the Council if these words bore any significance. He suspected not. Due to, for most of his own life, these words didn’t mean anything to him, either. But now, these words represented life itself. Tank O-ring seal. Flush valve. Refill tube. These words embodied the cycle of life. In and out. Up and down. Life and death. Excretion and consumption. As the CEO of the country’s 4th biggest bidet company, just a few days ago, Mr. Albee reached out to some contacts in the water/sanitation department and procured multiple industrial-sized tankers full of human waste. Did the Council think he was bluffing? An Albee never bluffs. Indeed: at this current moment, he was in possession of several thousand pounds of literal human waste. Auger. Ballcock. Gasket. Listen to the words, Council. The words were our lives. Without these words, we were nothing. Without these words, we were apes. Branch drain. Gallons Per Minute. Backflow. With a simple click of this button, Mr. Albee was prepared to drop the entirety of the human waste directly over the town of Lebanon, KS, population 208.
• Mayor Hannigan asked former resident Albee if he was in fact threatening not just the Council, but the entire town.
• You bet your hoity-toity, unclean ass I’m threatening the entire town, said former resident Albee. It wasn’t too difficult to plan, if the Council wanted to know. Sure, it might’ve cost him an arm and a leg to rent out a helicopter capable of towing such weight, and yeah, he had to call in some pretty precious favors, but in his opinion, these were very small prices to pay for protecting his father’s legacy. Filmore Albee. He’ll say it again. Filmore Albee. You killed him. All of you. Mr. Albee slowly moved in a circle so as to address the entire Chamber. You killed him with your massive clogs and your incessant needs. You depended on him to solve your problems for you. And how did you repay him? Huh? What appreciation did this Council show his father? They signed off on a C___’s Jr., is what. A C___’s freaking Jr. My god. Did the Council understand what this meant? Did anyone in this entire freaking town consider for one flipping second what adding a C___’s Jr. would do to their bowels? Did anyone consider the plumber? Anyone? Hello? No, of course not. Nobody considered the plumber. Because nobody ever considers the plumber. Instead, you all rejoiced at the grand opening. You rejoiced. You said now this town can finally move into the 21st century. You said now, finally, people will come visit. Did anyone consider what this would do to your toilets? Former resident Albee remembers those first few months quite well. It was the summer before he left for college. He specifically remembered the strain that his father was under. The landline at the house never seemed to stop ringing. His Pops could hardly sit down long enough to enjoy his morning cup of joe before the damn thing started ringing again. And then he was off, because he was the plumber, and a plumber takes an oath, not before a committee, or a council, or any other governing body, but with himself. A plumber makes a pledge to himself to honor those in desperate need of some assistance. Backflow. Faucet aerator. Valve. Some of you in attendance might recall that he, Drain Albee, began to help his father during this tough and trying time. He was slick with the snake drain, had a real talent for it, even. He guesses it ran in the blood. But Mr. Albee didn’t enjoy the work like his father did. Or maybe his father didn’t enjoy it, either. Maybe it was something else, some other word for how he felt about it. The job. For how he felt about the thankless job of unclogging and refitting and rerouting and unclogging some more. Since then, Mr. Albee has spent a great deal of time considering this, and what he’s concluded is that maybe enjoyment didn’t have anything to do with it. He thinks that what tethered his father to the job was something far stronger than plain ole enjoyment. After all, anyone can enjoy. But it takes a certain soul to submit, willingly, to an unpleasurable task. At the end of the day, this was about civic duty. Former resident Albee would like to stress this point further, if the Council will permit him a few additional moments.
• At 8:05 PM, the Chamber doors opened. Mayor Hannigan welcomed a team of uniformed police officers. The officers took up positions around the Chamber. Former resident Albee continued to stand at the lectern with his right arm elevated and his right hand gripping the small black device. Mayor Hannigan once again urged Mr. Albee to remove himself from the Chamber. Mr. Albee asked if the Chamber needed a reminder of what he was prepared to do if anyone forcibly removed him from the lectern before he was finished with what he had to say. This will be a national story, he said. Thousands of gallons of sludgy waste dropped over Lebanon. This was Biblical stuff, folks. This was Old Testament anger. Here they all were, in the geographical center of these so-called United States, home of the selfish, land of the childish. Did Mayor Hannigan really want to encourage a national controversy? Was Mayor Hannigan truly willing to risk the health of the public just so she didn’t have to listen to what he had to say?
• Mayor Hannigan asked the police to please remove Mr. Albee from the Chamber.
• Former resident Albee thought it germane to mention that the odds of the norovirus being present in the many thousands of pounds of waste were astronomically high. In other words, with a press of the button, Mr. Albee was willing to send Lebanon into a communal state of stomach sickness. Imagine it. An entire town puking/pooping their brains out. Businesses would close. The subterranean infrastructure of sump pumps and piping would fall under an enormous strain. It’s highly probable that enough toilets would flush concurrently to collapse the entire system. He’s talking back-ups everywhere. He’s talking water and waste running over the rim, spilling onto the floor, seeping into the hall. It’ll flood the streets. A deluge of shit. Can you imagine? The smells, my God. How much money would be lost as a result? The ER would overflow with dehydrated Lebonites. This could go on for weeks, maybe months. The norovirus was incredibly potent. A single itty-bitty molecule was enough to trigger a contagion. And mayor Hannigan was truly willing to risk this just because she refused to hear him out? How would this decision go over during her reelection campaign? This was an election year, was it not? Come to think of it, former resident Albee could’ve sworn he saw a recent poll that showed Mayor Hannigan only up a few measly points. Would her lead survive a catastrophic plague? Besides, he only wanted a few more minutes. He was almost finished.
• Mayor Hannigan rescinded her request for former resident Albee to be removed. She awarded him an additional three minutes but reminded him that he better be done by then, or else.
• Former resident Darin Albee thanked the Mayor for understanding. See, everyone? People can disagree and still live together. There’s no need for cops here, really. We’re civil adults, no? We’re all citizens? Mr. Albee would like to point out that he used this word in particular, citizens. This implies a relationship to one’s city. A citizen owes their city something. But what former resident Darin Albee learned during his final summer before college was that the citizens of this town had been living off credit for a long, long time. And when it came time to pay their debts, did they step up to the proverbial plate? Did they rise to the occasion? No, sir, they did not. Instead, they ate C___’s Jr., day after day, morning, noon, and night. They engorged themselves with fats and oils. Then they engorged their toilets with waste and paper. And who did they call in their moment of deepest need? Whose number did they dial when they were at their most vulnerable? Filmore Albee’s, is who.
• Mayor Hannigan reminded former resident Albee that he’d already used two minutes. Former resident Albee reminded Mayor Hannigan that 1) he could end her political career with a simple press of the button, and 2) he recalled one night where she herself dialed up the Albee residence and begged for help.
• Mr. Albee paused to clarify that what he meant was that, actually, he was going to speak for however goddamn long he pleased, thank you very much.
• Former resident Albee elaborated upon the psychic and physical toll his father endured during this time. For weeks and weeks, Mr. Albee followed his Pops from house to house as the seemingly never-ending chain of clogs went on and on. When you answered your doors, you were always so quick to scurry away, he said. When we knocked and you answered, you were always so ashamed of yourselves that you couldn’t even say hello, or thank you, or would you like a glass of water? Filmore Albee saved this town, goddamnit. He sacrificed himself to balance out the scales of civic duty. While all of you consumed, he submitted. While all of you enjoyed, he suffered. He bore your sins on his back. He unclogged your sloth while you watched television in the other room. Nobody ever asked to help. Not a single goddamn person ever asked if they could get him, Filmore, something to eat or drink.
• Then there came one night toward the very end of the summer where former resident Albee went out with some friends for a final “hoo-rah” before they all left for college. He explained how he felt very guilty about leaving his father all alone. C___’s Jr. was running a promotion, buy one get two free, or something. In other words, it was going to be a busy, busy night. But when he, Darin Albee, tried to talk his Pops into letting him come along on the calls, Filmore Albee was having none of it. He said go, boy, have fun. Enjoy. And so, with a heavy heart, Darin went and enjoyed. Everyone got good and hammered, too. They shared old memories, told childhood stories. An air of quiet longing hung suspended over the night. While he walked home from Reggie’s, the diveish bar at the end of the main strip that had no problems serving underage kids, Mr. Albee experienced what he felt to be a profound sadness. It was like a shadow had moved over his soul. The sky was blue-black. There were no stars, just clouds. The air was warm and still. He was in the middle of the country. He stood at the heart of the nation. This seemed significant at the time, he said, although just why, exactly, he wasn’t sure. At home, he found all the lights off except for the one in the bathroom. He remembered standing at the start of the hallway and drunkenly staring at the prism of yellow light that spilled out from the open doorway. He remembered calling out his father’s name. For some reason, he said the actual name, too. Filmore? Filmore, are you there? Yes, son, I’m in the tub. This was strange. This was highly irregular. In all his years, never had Darin Albee heard of his father using the tub. But, sure enough, the bathroom was where he found his Pops. Filmore Albee was lying in the tub just like he said. Except the tub wasn’t filled with water. It was filled to the brim with sludge. The sludge was brown and yellow. There were oil spots on the surface larger than baseballs. The smell was indescribable. No words exist to describe that smell. Dad, what are you doing? Why, son, I’m taking a plumber’s bath. Darin Albee had never heard of such a thing. And yet here it was, right before his very eyes. A plumber’s bath. His father said that if you spend enough time cleaning other people’s shit, you start to enjoy it. You start to crave it, even. Clean up enough shit and you begin to see it everywhere you go. Waste. God, they wasted so much. Everyone everywhere, wasting. Paper, money, food. Love, time, energy. You spend enough time dealing with other people’s shit, you start to long for your own, he said.
• Mayor Hannigan interrupted Mr. Albee to inform him that he was now on minute seven.
• Former resident Albee said that was just fine and dandy because he only had one thing left to say.
• Mayor Hannigan asked what this was.
• Former resident Albee mentioned the surplus in the budget. He said he had a fantastic idea for how to spend it. Mr. Albee cleared his throat before stating that the surplus should be spent on a statue. Specifically, a golden statue of his father, Filmore Albee, to stand right in front of C___’s Jr.’s. The statue would commemorate the sacrifices his Pops, Filmore Albee, made to save this town.
• In closing, Mr. Albee announced that he was the son of a plumber and he was proud of it.