The internet was cheerful and terrifying. Do not flush. Do not run water. Call a plumber. Hope it’s not tree roots. Pray it’s not collapsed. Dave looked at the standing water creeping toward the water heater. He looked at his phone. He looked at the ceiling, as if the house might offer a discount.

“Huh,” he said, the universal sound of a man hoping a problem will solve itself.

A black fist of sludge, roots, and what looked like a miniature plastic dinosaur came writhing out of the pipe. The smell doubled. Lena, from the porch: “Was that a toy?”