My son John each year, in the winter months, remodels a room at the Parkfield Lodge. This year he has chosen the room we call The Tool Room who's theme is that of a Blacksmith's shop. While I was helping with the make over of the bathroom, it struck me that far and away the most important object in the bathroom is not soap nor is it a nice soft absorbent bath towel or hot water. For when push comes to shove they would all have to take a back seat to a roll of Toilet Paper. For what other thing in a bathroom gives so much satisfaction when cleaning out different orifices of the body; can double as a Band Aid for a small cut, something to blow your nose on, clean your eye glasses or can be made into ear plugs to drown out unwanted music that sounds like finger nails on a blackboard. But T.P. really shows it's absolute supremacy over all other objects in a bathroom, when a person is perched upon the porcelain throne and when done, looks for the T.P. and low and behold the dispenser is empty; in the blink of an eye, terror strikes this hapless soul with “this can’t be”. In the case of no soap or towel that's just slightly inconvenient compared to no Toilet Paper, now that has to rank right up there with a heart attack. So how do we treat this indispensable part of our lives? Why we simply send spent paper down the toilet with not so much as a thank you for a job well done, or bon voyage. No we just walk away indifferent to the plight of said paper, as it journeys off to some sewer farm never to be seen again. It’s not in me to let the plight of an old friend end here. Toilet Paper needs to be recognized for a what could have been. For it's possible that it could have come from the very same tree in the forest that would make the pulp for the paper destined to make its way to the easel of an artist, where his brush strokes upon that paper changed it from pulp to a very valuable painting. Or maybe it’s use was to make a Note Pad where a few words are scribbled that would lead to a novel, that can now be found on the New York Times best sellers list. But no, our poor T.P. with just plain bad luck will get shunted into a wood pulp machine to emerge as a bone white, fanny friendly, roll of Toilet Paper. After being wrapped in a plastic bag with 11 others I eventually found myself on a Walmart store paper goods shelf. But before I could “see action” there would be an intolerable amount of time waiting, that I think could have been avoided. If only I would have been placed at eye level instead of on the bottom shelf. Being a bottom shelver is hard because there are so many other rolls all promising to make a bottom say "ahhh.” Wait a minute here comes a prospect. He's an arrogant looking guy bent on showing his girlfriend how tough he is. He picks me up, gives me a hard squeeze then pokes me and says “a corn cob would be better.” Back to the shelf I go. I’m not there long though, when a pleasant looking lady picks me up from the shelf and gives me a squeezable caress and drops me into her shopping cart. Arriving at my new home I notice that my mistress has an uncomfortable look on her face of “I’ve got to go”. She quickly mounts me on the axel of the TP holder so I will be ready to do my job. I was built for this moment. After my new friend has changed the look on her face from I’ve got to go, to a smile of satisfaction I know now, it’s my turn to finish the job where I will do my very best to give my lady a spic and span fanny ready for the next wipe. But for right now I hope my new friend, who sits above me, knows that I don’t know how to swim. Then I feel the water below starting to swirl, followed by a flushing sound. I yell “Please I can’t swim". Ah shit. Well I plan to change this injustice by building a proper monument to display this indispensable part of our lives. The newly remodelled bathroom of the Tool Room will be the site. It will be made of recycled parts, each having escaped the plight of my T.P. friend. To be reborn again as a functional tribute to Toilet Paper that will always be on the ready to tidy up that opening at the lower end where it meets the Gluteus Maximus widely known as the “Ass Hole”. So if you would like to pay homage to our universal friend come visit us in Parkfield California Earthquake Capital Of The World, population 18. The place where a ground swell of gratitude is gathering momentum to make Toilet Paper, Top of The Heap, King of the Hill.
See Ya Jack