Suddenly, a hand—made entirely of shimmering water—reached out from the bowl and grabbed the wooden handle of his plunger. Leo didn't run; after three previous "encounters," he knew better. He gave a firm tug back. "I have a schedule, pal," Leo muttered.
The screen goes black. The credits roll over the sound of a single, distant hand dryer. No one walks out of the theater. Everyone sits, stunned, wondering when a movie about a toilet became the most human thing they had seen all year.
Suddenly, a hand—made entirely of shimmering water—reached out from the bowl and grabbed the wooden handle of his plunger. Leo didn't run; after three previous "encounters," he knew better. He gave a firm tug back. "I have a schedule, pal," Leo muttered.
The screen goes black. The credits roll over the sound of a single, distant hand dryer. No one walks out of the theater. Everyone sits, stunned, wondering when a movie about a toilet became the most human thing they had seen all year.