At the best of times, there’s only one toilet on the International Space Station. As of last week, they’re down to zero. I am not making this up. The crewmembers have been reduced to collecting their leavings in plastic bags. (Like a dog! It was as if the shame of it should outlive him.)
Honestly, this should be easier to make fun of than it actually is. It’s a malfunctioning star-toilet for crying out loud! But I’ve been sitting here staring at the keyboard for half an hour, and all I’ve got is:
“In Space, no one can hear you flush. Because you can’t flush. Because the toilet’s broken.”
or: “Aren’t they surrounded on all sides by the most powerful plunger known to man?”
or: “I cannae change the laws of physics, captain! Ye’ll just have to hold it in!”
Which are all pretty weak. I don’t know… something about Astronaut Icecream™? Something about HAL not wanting to open the pod bay doors? Some combination of plumber’s butt, spacesuits, and explosive decompression? Meh.
Oh, wait! Here we go. The real, actual reason that this is happening? A malfunctioning toilet fan. Ahem.
“I guess this time the shit really hit the fan!”
Yeah, that’ll do. I’m not wild about it, but I feel like I can go to bed now.