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The Ending of an Era

Farewell Cruel World! They came to take me away today. I warned you. Didn't I? I was all nice about it, and thoughtful. But, did anyone take me seriously? No! Now I am being replaced by a fancy new 1.6 gallon low flow toilet. It just breaks my heart that I am being retired. I feel so useless! Though, I must admit the young Miss Low Flow is quite a beauty. I peaked around the corner and saw her as they lifted her out of her shipping box. Two big burly guys. They weren't needed. I could have lifted her myself. She's so lightweight and her tank is slim and sleek. Her bowl amazingly functional.

Not only am I jealous, I am in total awe of her. How could I possibly compete with her? Why would I want to? She is definitely superior to my old clunky water guzzling ways. I bet she wont leak for hours and hours as I did. I bet she wont leak at all! No one will have to come check on her and wiggle her handle to stop the leak. Oh, woe is me. I'm done for.

I know for sure, she will use less water too flush than I did. When they built me, they weren't thinking at all. Were they? Who needs five to eight gallons of water to flush away well, you know... two cups of...  human water?

And here she is Miss Efficiency, Miss How Green is Your Environmental Footprint, How Shiny is Your Curvy Seat. Oh, she's a beauty all right. No wonder everyone wants her. Only one and a half gallon flush! How does she do it? Amazing. What a wonderful way to save water. What an even more wonderful way to save money on the water bill! She is one incredible piece of equipment. She will be the focus of so much respect and attention for her service to the community and the world. Truly, I wish her the best her life in the bathroom can offer her.

When they hauled me out of there, it wasn't too bad. Really. They were quick and careful. They took me outside and set me in the garden. Oh! I have never seen a garden before in my entire life!

I went from manufacture, to box, to bathroom and that's where I've been ever since.  I can't even remember how many years ago. I guess that's why I and others like me are becoming obsolete.

But, this garden! I thought I had died and gone to heaven! Would this be my resting place forever more? It was filled with light and beauty, and I had the most peaceful feeling. No more struggles with plumbing. I thought, maybe, just maybe, I would be one of those toilets that gets to stay in the front yard and have flowers growing out of my bowl, like you see in the magazines.

They even talked about it a minute. But, I realized they were joking when they gently picked me up and put me in their vehicle. Is it the end for me? Is there nothing more? Will be garbage be dumped on me at the city dump until I can never see the light of day again?

But, wait a minute? They were talking. My user, the person to whom I have provided services all these years was concerned for me. She asked the question so pertinent to my future. "What happens next, Mr. Green Guy? You've replace the old toilet with a low flow one to help save water. But what happens to the old one? Is there any way it can be recycled?"

"Oh, yes", he said. "Toilets are made of porcelain, which is mostly made of clay. Porcelain can be ground down and used to make new porcelain items. Also, recycled toilet porcelain makes an excellent porous drainage material. It's a good substitute for gravel and can also be used as road base in state highways."

Well, now! I guess I really have died and gone to heaven. And now, my valuable porcelain will get a make over. I will be reincarnated! I will enter into a new kind of being. Imagine that! I can be part of a state highway! Say hi to me, everybody, as you safely pass over me. I will support your roadway. I will be useful again!

In case you missed the first part of the story, the following post relates Mr. Wasteful Flusher's first concerns about his demise:


  1. Sure wish I could get rid of ours!!!
    Liked you see yours in the garden! :-D

  2. You are such a fun writer! I wonder if this would be considered bathrooom humor.


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