The New Latrine
The new latrine, how sweet it smells, so clean, no sign of use. The old carcass reused to give it some nostalgic comfort. Yet, barely any resemblance to the old, it has no reek, the awful discharge of man does not creep upwards, moving terrifyingly closer with each deposit.
No, this latrine is blessedly vacant, almost, but not quite unused. Unsullied by our troubled digestions. The flies have not yet made a home here, their larvae do not greet each deposit with rampant joy and zest.
Instead, our new latrine is pure. A beautiful, simplistic slab, clean concrete, simple shapes. A gorgeous giant hole for ease of targetting. No more of those awkwardly abandoned messes left behind in haste. No more of scraping with an empty toilet roll someone else’s folly, across the obstacles to dispose.
Now the sturdy foot pedestals clearly mark where one should stand, to avoid any upset or disturbing concerns. The dilema over which position to choose to avoid the consequences of splash has been removed. Now one can release in perfect comfort that all will be accomodated.
Do I miss the old latrine? It’s stench grabbing by the throat as you approached? The flies whirling around taking every opportunity for sustenance? Their larvae growing while you watched them digest as you deposited? The constant thought that this contribution may be the last that this struggling structure could take?
No, I miss you not, you horrid part of hell! I hope that I never enter your foul den again. Today I searched for a latrine to use in camp, not many were acceptable but all were superior to you. Goodnight and goodluck old latrine, you have passed your prime and so tonight, we welcome with abandon your successor, oh concrete giant! Oh clean and empty space!