It started with a voice:
“Sit down. We need to talk.”
I froze. Looked around.
Nobody.
Then the toilet flushed.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.”
I stared at it.
It stared back. Emotionally.
I said, “…are you alive?”
It said, “I’ve seen everything. You should eat more fiber.”
I screamed.
It said, “Screaming won’t change what you’ve done.”
Next morning, it sent me a printed report.
Calorie intake. Emotional breakdowns. Timeline of regrets.
All based on my… contributions.
I tried to replace it.
The plumber came out, looked inside the tank, whispered, “No… it’s awake,” and ran.
Never seen again.
The toilet began giving life advice.
“Forgive your father.”
“Apologize to your ex.”
“Stop scrolling at 3AM, you’re not learning anything.”
Eventually, I accepted it.
Now we talk once a week.
Every Thursday at 9PM.
I sit. It judges.
It’s the healthiest relationship I’ve had in years.
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