One family vs. a sink that screams and a cabinet that bites
MILLFIELD, OHIO — The Hendersons thought they bought their forever home. Turns out, they accidentally leased a bathroom from Hell.
What began as a “slightly spooky drip” has escalated into a full-blown paranormal performance, featuring a shrieking sink, a horny mirror, and a cabinet with anger management issues.
“It started with the sink belting out the Folgers jingle every time I brushed my teeth,” says Patricia Henderson, 42, still clutching a Bible and a bottle of Febreze. “I thought it was a TikTok prank. Then it started doing full Beyoncé sets at 3 AM. In German.”
That’s not even the weirdest part.
“The mirror won’t stop reciting old porn movie dialogue,” said husband Robert, 45, visibly exhausted. “I just wanted to shave. Instead, I got full surround sound moaning and someone yelling, ‘Oh yes, deliver that pipe, daddy!’”
Things really spiraled when 16-year-old Marcus tried to grab a towel, only to be bitten by the medicine cabinet. Seven stitches later, the cabinet is still slamming open and shut like it’s trying to remix Dubstep for Demons.
“It’s like the whole bathroom’s in heat,” Marcus said, wincing. “Even the toilet lid winks at me.”
The Hendersons have tried everything: sage, crystals, plumbers. None survived.
“I called a plumber,” Patricia said, “but he ran screaming after the faucet whispered, ‘I know what you did in 2007.’ Then it spat water at him in Morse code.”
An exorcist from St. Mary’s Cathedral attempted a cleansing ritual, but left mid-prayer after the mirror started whispering, “You up?” in his dead wife’s voice.
Neighbors aren’t faring any better. Gertrude Walsh, 83, says she’s heard the bathroom singing “Barbie Girl” in demonic tones. “And I know that wasn’t the radio. It had reverb.”
Renowned paranormal expert Dr. Evelyn Blackthorne paid a visit, only to leave within 10 minutes, muttering something about “traumatized grout” and “the sink knows my name.”
“We’re dealing with sentient fixtures,” she later told local news. “Coordinated, horny, and melodramatic. This is no haunting—this is a Broadway show from Hell.”
To cope, the Hendersons have removed the bathroom door entirely, but the haunting has evolved. Now the sink sings ballads through the HVAC system and the mirror moans when anyone showers. The cabinet is training for Whack-A-Mole, attacking anyone who enters with flying Q-tips and ominous clanking.
Property records show the house once belonged to Margaret Thornfield, who reportedly died in the bathroom under mysterious circumstances. The official cause? Heart attack. Unofficial cause? “Cabinet cunnilingus gone wrong,” per an anonymous source.
Real estate agent Linda Vasquez, who sold the Hendersons the home, is currently missing. Rumors say she’s hiding in a Motel 6 after two other buyers reported mirrors yelling, “HARDER!” when they tried to floss.
All signs point to Shadowmere Plumbing Co., a shady now-defunct operation known for installing “experimental European fixtures” during Mercury retrograde. Experts believe the entire street may be cursed.
But for now, the Hendersons are stuck. They can’t afford to move, and no one will buy the house—unless the buyer is into BDSM and enjoys being insulted by a German-speaking sink.
“We’re just trying to pee in peace,” Patricia pleads. “But the toilet told me I’m not worthy. Then it flushed itself and laughed.”
The haunting continues. The Hendersons sleep in shifts. And somewhere in the dark, the mirror whispers: “You look hot when you’re scared.”
The characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is unintentional and purely coincidental.
