Several years ago, a friend, Monica, and I worked and lived together. We would regularly come home for lunch as we only lived 2 miles away from work. It wasn't uncommon for friends to stop by during our lunch. We'd talk, hang out, and make plans for later in the evening. On this particular day Rick stopped by. Rick is, by his very nature, an a*shole. It was because of this that he was known as Rick the prick. However, on this day, he would earn a new name. He would now be known as Rick the toilet killer. Monica and I were finishing up our lunch when there was a knock at the door. It was Rick. She invited him. We all sat in the livingroom and talked for a few minutes before Rick asked if he could use the bathroom. There was a bathroom right next to the livingroom. But, Rick headed upstairs to use the main bathroom. A few minutes later Rick came downstairs and announced that he had to leave. He appeared to be in a hurry. We didn't think much of it and said goodbye. A few more minutes go by and we're getting ready to go back to work. Rick is long gone. Monica walked towards the kitchen to put her dishes in the sink. Along the way, she walked underneath the chandelier that was hanging between the livingroom and kitchen. As she passed underneath she felt something hit her on top of her head. "What the f*ck was that?!" she asked. I looked over and noticed a steady stream of water flowing from the chandelier to the floor. "What the f*ck?" was the only response I could come up with. Then, as if on cue, we both heard the toilet upstairs still running. Monica did the only thing she could think to do which was to hold up her cup to catch the water coming out of the chandelier. I ran upstairs to turn off the water. I wasn't expecting the scene that was waiting for me. When I opened the bathroom door I found that the toilet had, indeed, overflowed and there was about half an inch of water all over the floor. To make things worse, the water was brown and there was sh*t all in it too. I stood in the doorway for a moment, dry heaving. I knew I had to go in and turn off the water. I took a deep breath and ventured in. While I was fumbling around on the tips of my toes (I was wearing shoes), I heard this from downstairs: "Is it sh*twater?!" I knew Monica had a very weak stomach and if I had said yes I knew she would have lost it and would have started to puke her guts out right there. So, I decided to act as if I didn't hear her. This, of course, only prompted her to yell louder. "IS IT SH*TWATER?!" "Ahh...Uhm...N-No." I finally managed to get the water turned off. I grabbed as many towels as I could and threw them all over the floor to soak up the "sh*twater". More cleaning would be needed but I didn't have any rubber gloves at the time and we had to get back to work. I came downstairs. Monica was still holding her cup up to the chandelier. She asked me again if it was "sh*twater". This time I said "well, maybe a little.". She was going to find out later anyway. Monica noticed that the leak from the chandelier had stopped. She took her cup down and, for reasons that still escape me to this day, she looked at the water inside it. That was a mistake. She started to dry heave. Then she puked. She took a few steps and puked again. Then she took a few more steps and puked for the 3rd and final time. Normally, this would have been disgusting and I would have puked too but I had just waded through "sh*twater" so I felt I could take on anything. Also, Monica is the only person I have ever met who can stand up perfectly straight and puke so it was kind of interesting to witness. After the puke was cleaned up, we headed back to work. We were really late by this point but, thankfully, we had an understanding supervisor so we didn't get in trouble. Also, Rick was never again allowed to use any toilet in our apartment. To this day, this story is remembered among our friends as the "Sh*twater Incident".