As I walked into the bathroom, I was shocked. Shocked. Not ever had I seen a bathroom in such a bad condition.The shampoo in the Conditioner tray, the toilet paper was on the wrong way, and my grandmother’s chopped up remains were in the toilet!

Frustratedly, I put the shampoo in the correct place, turned the toilet paper around, and flushed the toilet. And flushed again. And flushed again. Ah *Fuck*. The water level was so high now that the toilet was about to overflow. Whoever decided to kill my grandma, chop her up into little blocks, and bring them into my apartment clearly had no desire to be polite. What a dick.

I sighed, and went to go the plunger, hoping that it would work on corpses as well as it does on shit. This plunger has been through quite a lot, almost as much as my asshole, so it had better. I plunged it into the toilet, and after hours of hard work, finally managed to clear the blockage. I flushed, and watched with relief as most of the chunks were flushed away and the water returned to normal. However, there were some chunks still left in the bowl. Come *on*, whoever did this didn’t even have the decency to chop her up some more so she could be easily flushed? Ugh.

As I slowly cut the remains using my kitchen knife, carefully making sure not to scratch the toilet bowl, I thought about what equipment the murderer must have used. I bet they did it with a huge butter’s knife, and had the body laid out neatly on a cutting board, instead of having to painstakingly cut up individual pieces, hunched down and operating inside of a toilet bowl.

When all of it was finally gone, I assessed the mess. There was some blood on my arms, but none in the toilet bowl, as the flushing had taken care of that. As I carefully scoured the bathroom for any signs of blood, I found none. Well, it turns out this person did have at least a shred of decency within them, and made sure not to splatter my whole house with blood. Wait.. my whole house. Shit!

I ran out of the bathroom and looked at my house to see if they had done anything else while they were here. Stolen something, maybe? Or could my cat by lying in my bed right now, headless? After concluding there was nothing wrong downstairs, I rushed upstairs to see what was there. I found some blood on the floor, and discovered more ahead of me. Eventually, following the trail of blood led me into my bedroom. I swear, if I was right about my cat I will freak out. I changed my bedsheets just yesterday!

I burst into my room and was incredibly relived to find that there was no dead cat, just my grandfather, who was hanging from my ceiling fan, hands covered in blood. Thank god. Not only did this mean I had no more cleaning up to do, but I had also found the culprit! There was going to be no large-scale police investigation, I would not be questioned, and I could just call the police, cut him down and throw him in the dumpster without any inconvenience.