novella
Active Member
Silly horror, anyone?
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Sugo, the Lonely Japanese Toilet
Once there was a Japanese toilet named Sugo who lived in the ladies powder room of an exclusive Kyoto sushi restaurant. He was very smart but also very spoiled, having had everything he wanted for as long as he could remember.
He could sing and recite classic poetry, he could adjust his own temperature and emit exciting and pleasant aromas. He could even dance a little, wiggling his seat to the beat of a tune. He had his own telephone, television, and CD player. But he was very lonely.
Hardly anyone came to visit him, to sit on him and flush him, for the few women who frequented this important, expensive restaurant had been taught that a refined lady should avoid using a public powder room, even a private, refined public powder room.
Sugo became bored, sitting on the clean tiles all day. The best moment of his day was when Little Ono, the char girl, came in the early morning with her special chemicals and mops and sponges. She sang to him sometimes, she pressed his buttons as she worked, and giggled when he responded. But she never stayed long. Five minutes only, most days. He wanted to speak with her, but he was afraid that he would scare her away.
One morning when he was particularly sad, he whispered to her, "Little Ono, Little Ono."
The girl turned around with a start. "Did someone speak?" she asked, a tiny edge of panic in her voice.
"It is only me, Sugo."
"Where are you?" she asked. She was very afraid then that a man was hiding somewhere in the powder room, though there was no place to hide.
"I'm here," said Sugo, "right before your eyes. Press any button and I will do something fun."
Oh, it's just that clever toilet, Little Ono thought. Someone is playing a trick on me. She giggled and hid her smile behind her hand, blushing. Then she left the powder room, bringing her cleaning things with her.
The next morning Sugo decided to try a little harder. He decided that he should change his approach.
When Little Ono came in with her buckets and mops, Sugo let out a sigh. Little Ono bent over him, checking to make sure he was okay. That made him happy.
He let out a little burp. She looked again. She came over and adjusted his water knob. He sang a line from a quiet little song, a song about a lizard with a careless nature.
She jumped back. "What was that?" she said to no one.
"That was me. Sugo. Thank you for fixing my water."
Little Ono looked surprised then, but not afraid. "Oh, that's okay." She went back to her cleaning.
"Would you press some of my buttons, please?" asked the lonely toilet.
Little Ono cautiously approached the toilet. She looked at the complicated array of controls, the many icons with mysterious functions. "My, but you are a puzzle," she said. "I don't know which to push." She had never experimented with his many amazing controls.
"You can try anything," said Sugo. "Go ahead."
Little Ono pushed a pink button. A pink smell came out of a vent. She pushed a shiny hologram. A pop song drifted out. She pushed two more buttons, and fountain erupted from the bowl, to the tune of Frank Sinatra's My Way.
Little Ono pressed more buttons, giggling to herself. She became excited at the prospect of creating something all her own. She could not stop. She pushed buttons all morning, forgetting her tasks, forgetting her chemicals and special sponges. Little Ono became drenched and hysterical, ignoring Sugo's whimpers to stop. He was very tired. He had no energy left. He was going to burn out. He tried to turn himself off but he could not. He begged Little Ono to unplug him. She reached for the power cord with her wet hand.
When the restaurant manager came to inspect the powder room that evening, he found his cleaning girl, a harmless little person from a poor farm family, with her head in his deluxe, expensive toilet. She had been shocked and drowned and lay motionless in a cloud of fake rose perfume. Her simple parents never understood why their precious Little Ono would stick her head into a fancy toilet bowl.
"
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Sugo, the Lonely Japanese Toilet
Once there was a Japanese toilet named Sugo who lived in the ladies powder room of an exclusive Kyoto sushi restaurant. He was very smart but also very spoiled, having had everything he wanted for as long as he could remember.
He could sing and recite classic poetry, he could adjust his own temperature and emit exciting and pleasant aromas. He could even dance a little, wiggling his seat to the beat of a tune. He had his own telephone, television, and CD player. But he was very lonely.
Hardly anyone came to visit him, to sit on him and flush him, for the few women who frequented this important, expensive restaurant had been taught that a refined lady should avoid using a public powder room, even a private, refined public powder room.
Sugo became bored, sitting on the clean tiles all day. The best moment of his day was when Little Ono, the char girl, came in the early morning with her special chemicals and mops and sponges. She sang to him sometimes, she pressed his buttons as she worked, and giggled when he responded. But she never stayed long. Five minutes only, most days. He wanted to speak with her, but he was afraid that he would scare her away.
One morning when he was particularly sad, he whispered to her, "Little Ono, Little Ono."
The girl turned around with a start. "Did someone speak?" she asked, a tiny edge of panic in her voice.
"It is only me, Sugo."
"Where are you?" she asked. She was very afraid then that a man was hiding somewhere in the powder room, though there was no place to hide.
"I'm here," said Sugo, "right before your eyes. Press any button and I will do something fun."
Oh, it's just that clever toilet, Little Ono thought. Someone is playing a trick on me. She giggled and hid her smile behind her hand, blushing. Then she left the powder room, bringing her cleaning things with her.
The next morning Sugo decided to try a little harder. He decided that he should change his approach.
When Little Ono came in with her buckets and mops, Sugo let out a sigh. Little Ono bent over him, checking to make sure he was okay. That made him happy.
He let out a little burp. She looked again. She came over and adjusted his water knob. He sang a line from a quiet little song, a song about a lizard with a careless nature.
She jumped back. "What was that?" she said to no one.
"That was me. Sugo. Thank you for fixing my water."
Little Ono looked surprised then, but not afraid. "Oh, that's okay." She went back to her cleaning.
"Would you press some of my buttons, please?" asked the lonely toilet.
Little Ono cautiously approached the toilet. She looked at the complicated array of controls, the many icons with mysterious functions. "My, but you are a puzzle," she said. "I don't know which to push." She had never experimented with his many amazing controls.
"You can try anything," said Sugo. "Go ahead."
Little Ono pushed a pink button. A pink smell came out of a vent. She pushed a shiny hologram. A pop song drifted out. She pushed two more buttons, and fountain erupted from the bowl, to the tune of Frank Sinatra's My Way.
Little Ono pressed more buttons, giggling to herself. She became excited at the prospect of creating something all her own. She could not stop. She pushed buttons all morning, forgetting her tasks, forgetting her chemicals and special sponges. Little Ono became drenched and hysterical, ignoring Sugo's whimpers to stop. He was very tired. He had no energy left. He was going to burn out. He tried to turn himself off but he could not. He begged Little Ono to unplug him. She reached for the power cord with her wet hand.
When the restaurant manager came to inspect the powder room that evening, he found his cleaning girl, a harmless little person from a poor farm family, with her head in his deluxe, expensive toilet. She had been shocked and drowned and lay motionless in a cloud of fake rose perfume. Her simple parents never understood why their precious Little Ono would stick her head into a fancy toilet bowl.
"
