What a Toilet Thinks of Its Visitors: Humorous Short Story with the Same First and Last Sentence

Creeeeeeak. Uh-oh-the door's opening. Wonder who it's going to be?

Oh joy, oh rapture. It's the little girl. The cute one with the blonde hair, who sings to me every time she visits. I overheard the bathtub saying to the loofah scrub that she's only three.

All right, she's ready to sit. Aaaah, she's light as a feather. I just love it when she comes in; she's the joy of a toilet seat's existence.

Huh? What's that she's singing? Hmm ... "La la, upside down, have to pee all over town." Oh my goodness, she's so funny.

Aaack! No! "Watch out! Hold on, Sweetheart, or you'll fall in! You can't dance and sit on on a toilet seat at the same time!"

Whew, another catastrophe averted.

Well, okay, she's done. "That's right, Sweetie, push down the handle. Bye-bye; don't forget to wash your hands."

Hmm, hmm, hmm. Who will be next? Hum, hum, ho, ho. I have to tell you, the life of a toilet seat is ...

Oh, wait. I hear footsteps. It's the little boy. "All right now, Pardner, take aim and don't miss."

Aaacckttth. Ftttthhhh. Blech. "Okay kid, hand me some toilet paper. I need to wipe off my face. And when you're done, don't slam the-"

WHAM!

"Toilet seat down."

Gosh, it's getting dark out. Guess the kids are headed to bed, and the missus will be in pretty soon. That's why I'm the deluxe, padded version. The missus doesn't like sitting on a cold, hard seat.

You know, I like her. No singing or talking, she just reads out of those fashion magazines. I hope she comes in soon.

Aw shucks, that's right. She was in before the little girl, so I guess I won't be seeing her again for awhile. All that's left is the head of the house and I'm sure ...

Yup, here he is. "Hold on, big guy. Let me fluff up before you sit on-"

Uuumph, I wish he'd lose a few pounds. How am I going to stay poofy if he keeps plopping down on me like that? Maybe someday he'll use that exercise cycle that's stuck out in the garage.

"All done, big fella? Don't forget to use the room freshener spray. The smell of apple blossoms is a far sight better than the smell of -

"Hey wait. Don't turn out the light! What are you going to do, leave me alone all night long? Come back, come back."

Drat.

The house is all dark and lonely. No one is going to show up until morning. Guess I'll just go to sleep-but you know, before I settle down for the night I have to say one thing. Being a toilet seat is a lot like being at war-it's long hours of boredom followed by moments of sheer terror.

Creeeeeeak. Uh-oh-the door's opening....

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Sources: Personal experience and imagination