Too long have we men labored under the delusion that in our homes there lies in wait a throne. A cool porcelain seat, surrounded by four soundproof walls through which no nagging hails can pierce. A place of solitude and peace. A room where the magazines rule and time has no meaning. Well, it DOES NOT EXIST! This scrap of suburban lore has been smited like the dragons of old. The throne rooms of our forefathers are overrun by piles of dirty laundry and yellow bathtub ducks. Ducks that mock the precious few moments we have to ourselves. No matter how many times we gather the laundry and stomp on those ridiculous ducks, the next day will find more mildewing pairs of toddler whitey tighties and a smiling, squeaking, water squirting damn duck! A truer tale about man and his throne should be told.
One day in the not too distant past, in a land ruled by a woman and populated primarily of children between the ages of two and eleven, a man existed. This man endeavored some day to overthrow the queen and banish the peasant toddlers to their rooms, so that he could enjoy the throne all to himself. Of course, in the mean time he had to resign himself to waking in the middle of the night and sneaking through the quiet darkness of the kingdom. Even then he still wasn’t free. In those hours of slumber he must still remember to close the seat of the throne when done. Failure to do so carried the penalty of death under the current monarchy’s reign.
The sight of a man’s predawn water closet raid became such a common thing that scientists, doctors and the queen's own high priest speculated at the cause. They said that a man’s prostate weakened so much in his golden years that he couldn’t sleep through the night without a restroom break. RIDICULOUS! The truth is simply that as a man’s wife and children get older they gain in power and numbers, eventually taking over everything the man has. After years pass, a man’s biological clock simply adjusts itself, waking its host at the most convenient hour to enjoy an empty throne. It is absurd to EVER assume that a man or any part of a man could become weak. Short of sprouting arms and legs and bench pressing three hundred pounds, (free weight of course) our prostates are fine and strong. Many of the kingdom’s men have also found that predawn is the best time to see what treasures are hidden deep in the kingdom's refrigerators. During daylight hours the iron food closets are closely guarded by the queen. Only roughage is deemed suitable by her majesty to be doled out to the kingdoms men. This of course makes waiting for the throne much more difficult and explains the consolidation of nightly runs for food and runs for… well, runs.
After a particularly bad day our hero snuck through the castle to his favorite throne room. There he found it abandoned. Void of the normal clutter, he believed he had triumphed until he saw the notices tacked upon the crescent windowed door. OUT OF ORDER! BY PROCLAMATION OF HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, NONE SHALL FLUSH THE THRONE AS THE THRONE WILL NOT FLUSH. In even bolder print the second sign blared, WANTED! TODDLER AND DUCK ACCOMPLICE! ARMED AND DANGEROUS, APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION! WANTED FOR QUESTIONING IN CONNNECTION WITH BROKEN THRONE.
Desperate with the need to use a throne and too tired for nightly journeys to the faraway kingdom of ‘Down Stairs,’ our hero made a decision. He vowed that then and there he would repair the queen’s throne and use it first himself. If the queen wouldn’t reward him with sole ownership for this feat then he would just foul the rim of the seat so badly no one else would dare to sit upon it.
Verily, he dismantled the throne, and studied it carefully. He knew that the easiest way to repair something was through ‘reverse engineering.‘ It is so much easier to fix a thing once you understand how it works. After deciding how to proceed he found the local ‘Ole Hardware Shoppe’ and purchased replacement parts. He found that a toilet works almost solely on the principles of volume, suction and gravity. When a toilet is flushed, a plunger-like device called a ‘flapper’ is raised by an arm attached to the flushing handle. Water escapes from the tank of the toilet into the bowl through a pipe the flapper keeps sealed. The escaping water from the tank enters the bowl and provides enough volume to force the water from the bowl of the toilet to exit a drain pipe with an ‘S’ shape. The ‘S’ shape of the pipe provides just enough resistance to maintain an adequate level of standing water in the bowl. As the bowl gains enough water volume to counteract this resistance, gravity and suction take over and all the water is forced through the ‘S’ shaped pipe. After the flush handle is released the flapper closes again. Running water begins to fill the tank. The water level in the tank rises until it contacts a floating device called the ‘ball cock.’ This device was obviously named by the kingdom's teenage boys. When the float hits a predetermined height in the tank, it closes a gasket and prevents the running water from flowing. That’s it. The man also discovered that by adjusting the height of the float he could save the kingdom money on its water bills. By lowering the height of the float, it takes less water to raise the float and close the gasket. Less water is used with each flush. The queen would need less taxes. So the man would be able to purchase more fishing lures. The best thing about the inner workings of the throne is this : no tool at all is needed. Just replace the ‘flapper’ and the ‘ball cock’ together, and more often than not you will solve any issues that exist. Gaskets wear out and flappers warp and leak. Your ‘Ole Hardware Shoppe’ should have what you need in a convenient kit for less than ten dollars. Remember to always shut off the water via the knob located behind and slightly under your throne, prior to removing any parts. This is a mistake you will only make once. Also NEVER EVER ‘Google’ the term ‘ball cock!’
Your cleansed, jon clogging, plunging son.