I really don't like to jump to conclusions ("I took a tiny step, and there conclusions were." - Buffy), but I've been harboring suspicions for quite some time, slowing amassing evidence, and I think I can safely make some ridiculous claims with complete conviction.
I share a two-bedroom, tiny but not tiny-as-could-be, Manhattan apartment with flatmateMichael. It has a general common room that we have sectioned off into living room and kitchen, and a corridor decorated with tasteful black and white and grayscale photographs in black frames. And then there's the bathroom, which I am convinced in my heart of hearts is the reason we chose this apartment, as it is tiled - floor and walls - in black marblelite.
How could we know, sixteen months ago, that that very marbelite bathroom and its contents would now be the subject of my concern and scrutiny?
But finally, after much surveillance and experimentation, I have reached this conclusion: I suspect that a demon may be living in our pipes.
It should be no surprise, really. It's an old building. With old pipes. And if Doctor Who has taught us nothing else, it's that very old things tend to have strange-looking sentient creatures living there that we just don't notice most of the time. This creature has no doubt been living in our pipes longer than Michael and I have been living in the apartment. Though the demon has only squatter's rights and nothing more, he does have the prior claim.
I've noted his dietary habits: he savors the taste of bathwater as most people enjoy french fries. Liquid Plumber is, to him, a seldom-indulged but always-enjoyed delicacy, much like our chocolate mousse. And the drip-drip-drip of our never-quite-turned-off faucet is ... well, obviously that's David Bowie.
The demon seems a gentle beast, silent and mostly harmless, save for his refusal to allow our bathwater to drain quickly, no matter how frequently we try to clean the pipes. He will not be evicted. I am at this point contemplating charging him a maintenance fee to keep us stocked in bleach and tub-cleaning scrubs, but am nervous about broaching the subject with him, as we've never been formally introduced.
But as you know, I am all about naming things, so even though he hasn't told me himself, I've decided to give our Pipe Demon a name and thus make him slightly more approachable and real.
I have decided to name him Froedrich.
Just don't tell my flatmate about Froedrich. He has an overactive imagination.