On Toilets.

There are many ways in which one might use a bathroom. The toilet, for one, is a classic option for both urination and defecation. Also offered are the shower and sinks, primarily used for hygiene. Of those possibilities, most people do not take the time to consider the intricacies of each. As the demand for a consolidated guide on bathroom use arises, so too, does my frustration with bathroom misuse in modern America. Let us begin with toilets.

A typical adult male will need to urinate 3 to 5 times per day. For performing this solemn duty, he is presented with a choice of basins in which he may relieve himself. The most common is the standard toilet. Also known as the “Porcelain Throne” or the “Fat Urinal”, this household water fixture has been a centerpiece of the bathroom since ancient times.

When relieving oneself in a standard toilet, it is customary for a man to stand over the toilet and propel his urine directly into the bowl. It is also customary for him to lift the protective seat, so as to not contaminate it with stray droplets. With the seat lifted, he will unzip his pants, and carefully grip his penis so as to point his urethra towards the toilet’s water-filled bowl. An ideal positioning strategy in this preparatory period is to place the balls of his feet parallel to he front edge of the toilet, or further forward. This prevents low-velocity drops from landing on the floor. The man will then release his bladder, draining it via a thin stream into the water. This portion of toilet use is known as the “freestyle” section, wherein the user is encouraged to draw patterns or make entertaining noises with his stream. As the flow of urine tapers off, the stream becomes weaker and loses range; it is at this phase that the stance becomes important as a means to prevent spillage. A careless lean or flick could send droplets to the floor, which is unsanitary. When the flow ends, it may be necessary for the man to tap his unit lightly in order to remove excess drops, and this should be practiced in order to prevent unpredictable sprays.

With the main process completed, the toilet user may lower the seat as a courtesy to the next user. This function of the toilet is still debated among scholars, of whom some believe that the seat is best left up for other men who enter in a hurry. Before leaving the bathroom or toilet stall, the user is expected to pull up and zip his pants. It is advisable for anyone visiting a bathroom to wash their hands before leaving.

And so, with that said: You are an adult human male, Brandon. For the love of god, stop peeing on the seat, floors and walls, then walking out of the bathroom with your pants around your ankles and a trail of excess urine behind you. Come on, man. We know you’re going through a roll of toilet paper every day. We see the stains every time you pour leftover soup haphazardly into the toilet. What are you doing in there? There was blood on the walls last week. There are banging sounds coming from your room and every time you emerge, your knuckles are covered in bandages. You tell us strange stories about the arrangement of the toilet paper and the curse it places on the flushing mechanics of our fixture. We hear you, just outside the bathroom door, whispering incantations as we use the toilet responsibly. There are never any lights on in your room, yet you remain indoors all day. We hear screaming on Saturday nights.

Those kids on the news that went missing… last seen in a bathroom…

Why are you doing this to us? Why have you taken away the solitary joy in my life that was regular toilet use? Is there a plan? Do you still know who you are? Do you still have a soul? Do you believe in anything, anymore, Brandon? Do you still feel love?

That toilet was my love. It felt like home and I thought of it as my child. Why do you desecrate it so? Never again will I be able to endure that room. I miss my time with the toilet. Now it is dead to me; maybe to everyone. You have made the toilet your own, but at the cost of its own lifeblood. It is a mere plaything of your twisted imagination now. A rotted, petrified relic of a better age. Our insistence will not bring it back. We lost it long ago, yet remain in denial.

Sometimes, late at night, I awake from my slumber with a start. The light under the bathroom door beckons to me and I fall under its trance. In that still moment, in the silence of the witching hour, I drift over the precipice and into the wooden-doored stall. It is only a dream. I sit on that soiled throne and I weep.

I’m sorry, Toilet.

Dedicated to Toilet, who will forever be in my thoughts and dreams. We pray that Shower will not suffer the same fate.