The Night the Toilet Sneezed
A funny bedtime story about a noisy loo, a startled cat, and a very polite little boy.
Max was wearing his dinosaur pyjamas.
They were his best ones. They had green dinosaurs on the knees and a T. rex on the tummy who looked as if he was shouting, “BEDTIME? NEVER!”
But it was bedtime.
Dad had said it three times.
“Pyjamas,” said Dad.
“Done,” said Max.
“Toilet,” said Dad.
“Nearly done,” said Max.
“Teeth,” said Dad.
Max sighed. “Teeth are always next.”
Marmalade the cat sat in the hallway, licking one paw and pretending she was not interested in anything.
Max padded into the bathroom in his bare feet. He used the toilet, climbed down, and reached for the flush.
“Goodnight, loo,” he said, because Max liked being polite.
He pressed the button.
The toilet did not make its usual watery whoosh.
It went…
Max jumped.
Marmalade shot straight up in the air, landed on the bath mat, and ran out of the bathroom like a furry orange rocket.
“Daaaaad!” shouted Max.
Dad came running.
Not fast-running. Dad was wearing slippers.
“What happened?”
“The toilet sneezed,” said Max.
Dad looked at the toilet.
The toilet looked back in its toilety way.
“Toilets don’t sneeze,” said Dad.
“This one does,” said Max. “It went FLUSH-flush-flush… AAAA… CHOO!”
Dad tried very hard not to smile.
“Maybe it was the pipes.”
“Maybe it has a cold,” said Max.
Dad scratched his chin. “Shall we check?”
He pressed the flush button.
From the hallway, Marmalade made a noise that sounded like, “Mrrrp!”
Dad blinked.
Max folded his arms.
“Told you.”
Dad called, “Mum? Could you come and listen to the loo?”
Mum appeared with Max’s toothbrush in one hand.
“I thought I had heard everything as a parent,” she said.
Dad pressed the button again.
“FLUSH-flush-flush… AAAA… CHOO!”
Mum looked at the toilet.
Then she looked at Max.
Then she looked at Dad.
“Bless you,” she said to the toilet.
Max gasped. “Yes! We must say bless you. It’s polite.”
“Very polite,” said Dad.
Max ran to the cupboard and came back with a tissue.
He placed it carefully on top of the cistern.
“There,” he said. “A toilet tissue.”
Dad laughed so much his shoulders bounced.
“It already has toilet tissue,” said Mum, pointing to the roll.
“That is different,” said Max. “This one is for its nose.”
“Toilets don’t have noses,” said Dad.
Max looked at the toilet.
He looked at Dad.
“Then how did it sneeze?”
Dad opened his mouth.
Dad closed his mouth.
Mum smiled. “Good question.”
Max patted the toilet lid.
“Poor loo,” he whispered. “Do you need a blanket?”
“No blankets in the bathroom,” said Mum quickly. “Water and blankets are not good friends.”
“A hot water bottle?”
“No hot water bottles near the toilet either,” said Dad.
“A biscuit?”
Dad shook his head. “Definitely no biscuits for the toilet.”
Max frowned. “What do toilets eat, then?”
Mum lifted the toothbrush. “They don’t eat. They’re machines. They can make funny noises, but they’re not alive.”
Max nodded slowly.
Then the toilet gave a tiny gurgle.
“Glug.”
Max pointed. “It said glug.”
“Machine glug,” said Dad.
“Still rude,” said Max. “It didn’t say excuse me.”
Dad knelt beside the toilet and lifted the lid very carefully.
“Let me have a look.”
Max stood at the door with Mum and Marmalade, who had returned but was keeping one paw ready for running away.
Dad wiggled the toilet seat.
Squeak.
He lifted the lid.
Bonk.
He lowered it.
Squeak-bonk.
Max’s eyes grew round. “Its mouth is squeaky.”
Dad looked underneath the lid. “Aha.”
“Aha what?” asked Max.
“This little rubber bit has come loose. When the flush starts, the lid wobbles and the valve squeaks. It makes a sneezy sound.”
Max stared.
“So the toilet hasn’t got a cold?”
“No,” said Dad. “It has got a wobble.”
Mum nodded. “A wobbly loo.”
Max giggled. “A sneezy, wobbly loo.”
Dad fetched a tiny felt pad from the kitchen drawer, the one full of batteries, string, old keys and mysterious things grown-ups keep forever.
He stuck it carefully under the lid.
“Right,” said Dad. “Test flush.”
Max held Mum’s hand.
Marmalade stood behind Mum’s ankle.
Dad pressed the button.
“FLUSH-flush-flush…”
Everyone waited.
“…achoo.”
It was much smaller this time.
Not a giant sneeze.
A baby sneeze.
Max clapped both hands over his mouth and laughed.
“The loo whispered it!”
Dad bowed to the toilet. “Much better manners.”
Mum handed Max his toothbrush. “Now, teeth.”
Max brushed his teeth.
Brush-brush-brush.
Spit.
Rinse.
No sneeze.
At the bathroom door, Max turned back.
“Bless you, loo,” he said.
The toilet was quiet.
Marmalade sniffed the bath mat and decided the bathroom was safe again.
Dad tucked Max into bed. Mum pulled the duvet up to his chin. Marmalade jumped onto the end of the bed and curled into a warm orange comma.
“Is the toilet all better now?” asked Max.
“It’s safe and fixed,” said Dad. “It might still make a little noise now and then, but that’s all right.”
Max nodded. “Machines can be silly.”
“They certainly can,” said Mum.
“And daddies can be silly.”
“Sometimes,” said Dad.
“And cats can be silly.”
Marmalade opened one eye.
“Especially cats,” whispered Max.
The house grew quiet. The hallway light went off. The bathroom door stayed open just a crack.
Max snuggled down in his dinosaur pyjamas.
Far away, from the bathroom, came one tiny sound.
Not loud.
Not scary.
Just a little…
“achoo.”
Max smiled into his pillow.
“Bless you, loo,” he whispered.
Then he closed his eyes and went to sleep.