Every once in a while Robin and I babysit a six year old girl. She doesn’t fall asleep unless we tell her bedtime stories, and since neither of us know children’s tales off the bat, we make some up. Recently she requested a story about toilets. This is the result.

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‘Kevin the Toilet’

Once upon a time there was a toilet named Kevin. He was shining and porcelain, a beautiful specimen. But no one knew he was alive. So whenever people opened up the toilet seat, they were prying his lips open. And every single day, people would poop straight into his mouth. Warm sweaty butts sat on his face daily. This was the plight of Kevin. Every flush was him crying out for help. One day he cried and cried. People thought that the plumbing was broken. They disabled Kevin. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God! It’s finally done!”

But as time passed he became bored. He felt like his life was meaningless. He desperately wanted to be used again. Not having any purpose, Kevin became the first depressed toilet. Everything got worse when he was replaced by a more energy efficient and water-saving model, Kevin 2.0. The Original Kevin was then thrown out on the street.

On the curb he met an old mattress named Nancy. Nancy was a kind and understanding rectangle. She empathized with Kevin. She too had been burdened by the occasional bodily fluid and then thrown out once she couldn’t do her job. Over time, they grew closer and closer. Waste receptacle and mattress became best friends. Kevin wasn’t sad anymore. The power of friendship saved him. He realized that the meaning of life wasn’t doing your job. Instead, life was enriched by emotional connections and compassion. Thus Kevin became an enlightened toilet.

THE END.

Burrito Sister