The Plight of the Toilet Duck
Toilet ducks are odd creatures. Not visible to the human eye they come in a variety of colours. Emerald green, lemon and lavender, they live in the bowl and multiply through the owner. Eventually they die. They have glistening shiny scented coats that shape their little bodies. Reminiscent of feathers, but there is not a one to be found on the toilet duck. It has evolved in accordance with its environment. Yet strangely, these little creatures can fly. Their glossy wings flap vigorously at each flush, as they stream down the sides of the great wall of china, working their wings furiously until finally they waft up into the air, releasing their scent. Many will find their way down the s-bend. Such are the dangers for the toilet duck. Timing is everything with these little fellows and as time passes, they become weaker and eventually, it is the fate of all toilet ducks to go down the drain, quite literally.
New ones emerge when a kindly hand spurts a bottle of appropriate cleaner around the bowl. The sediment coagulates and before you know it, a flush little duck is born. They are soft and pliable at first and they struggle to find their way up the Great Wall of China to the inside rim where lies sanctuary. Here they incubate and grow strong. Their beaks become hardened from the ceaseless pecking of lime. It is their job to clean and as their shimmering scented bodies grow bigger, they slide down the bowl, leaving glazed streaks behind them to find their feet in the pond below.
Such is the splashing and fun of toilet ducks, when swimming together, that they create a foaming effect in the bowl. A toilet duck loves nothing better than to sneak up on another duck and dunk him so his little tail is sticking out in the air. Oddly enough, this game is called Duck Duck and rather than cause angst among the toilet ducks, it serves to bond them – especially between rival ducks such as the lemons and the lavenders.
No matter where the toilet ducks are, they are ready for action and when the great shadow blocks their sunny view; they know its time to act. Toilet ducks everywhere, are preprogrammed to serve and deodorize. Whoever is left in the pond, takes to the air on contact. Any duck on the bowl will rely on the flush to launch them. The little ducks under the rim will wait for calm then slowly slide down the Great Wall into the pond.
Such covert operations are conducted under the watchful eye of Harpic ducks, better known in our world as an Operations Manager. Harpic ducks just are. Predetermined and flushed away as often as other toilet ducks, nobody questions their authority. Every bottled society contains them it would seem.
Sometimes massacres occur and toilet ducks die in the millions. The heart rending sound of death is too great to bear and for humans such horror is inaudible. The wondrous gleam of these little creatures, disintegrate into nothingness along with their piteous quacking on contact with the culprit bleach. The owner is unaware of course, not knowing about the secret life of a toilet duck, they can’t appreciate the mass destruction of these little creatures or they would stop in a second. Under the microscope, it is a pitiful sight to watch a dapper little duck minding his own business suddenly fizzle into nothing through a drop of White King.
To further compound their fight for survival is the Blue Loo hazard, which don’t destroy ducks but have a permanent discolouring effect. No longer are there lemon, green and lavender ducks splashing around. Almost like they have been caught in some tragic oil spill, they are all dark blue, swimming in water the same colour. Weighted with this dark chemical colourant, the toilet duck has difficulty flying at each flush so the mortality rate is higher. More ducks go down the s-bend. Less ducks are born since the blue loo absorbs the cleaner. Fewer scale the wall to sanctuary under the toxic weight. These little fellows have environment issues all their own to tackle.
Nevertheless, despite such problems, toilet ducks soldier on and one would hope that through doing so, they evolve and adapt evermore to their environment. When the toilet brush goes to work on the bowl for example, many ducks voluntarily attach themselves to it. The price they pay for cleaning. As the brush is plunged back and forth into the water, the little ducks cling on and peck at what residue they can. They flap their wings and release their ducky scent and take pride in the job they were destined to do. They waggle their webbed feet and create a foamy tide to aide the cleaning process. Eventually some of them let go of the brush and fall into the bowl soon to be flushed away. An honourable demise. Others take flight only to hit the Great Wall at top speed and topple helplessly into the foaming tomb below. Some cling to the bristles and are prised free when faced with the torrent of the flush. A minority few survive only to find themselves on dry land where they soon perish. The rest sit under the rim to watch the wonderful spectacle taking place below and hope that they too will one day exit with a bang. Thousands of ducks quack their approval at the flushed duck’s selfless sacrifice. Afterwards, they peck at the lime under the rim and wait until all is quiet before discreetly slipping down the Great Wall of China into the pond for another game of Duck Duck.
The End
