Bunnings Snake: Drain

Greg cranked the handle. The snake bucked, a live thing fighting back. He leaned his weight into it, sweat beading on his forehead. Grind. Twist. Shove. The steel groaned. The pipe made a sound like a dying cow. He gave one final, furious shove.

The Bunnings car park was a gladiatorial arena of utes, trailers, and exhausted parents. He marched inside, past the sausage sizzle (onions on top, a good sign), and collected his prize. The box was heavy, promising a coiled beast of galvanised steel and grim determination. bunnings snake drain

Greg sat frozen, dripping in liquid filth. Greg cranked the handle

Greg looked down. Floating in the muck on his lap was a rusted, skeletal potato peeler, a blackened hair tie, and something that may have once been a spoon. The steel groaned

Then it erupted.