Published: 2025-08-16

It was 6:15 PM when Charlie returned home. The sun was still out. Nothing was different than before. The huge mahogany door in the main entrance still led to the living room. The paintings were still on the walls, and the Turkish rug still adorned the floor under the furniture. He was home, and home was there for him.

Charlie took off his shoes and sat for a minute. After a flight of eleven hours, he was exhausted. He ran his hand over the contours of the mahogany chair as if caressing an old lover. He was happy to be home.

It wasn’t until 6:54 that Charlie called the police.

“Police department, how can I help you?” A woman said.
“I want to report a robbery.”
“Very well, sir. Who am I speaking to?”
“My name’s Charles Noe.”
“Very well, mister Noe. What’s your address?”
“That’d be 552 Carolyns Circle, APT 061.”
“Did this robbery happen in your residence, Mr. Noe?”
“That is correct.”
“Understood. Please describe the stolen items, Mr. Noe.”
“They stole my toilet.”

There was a moment of silence. Maybe the reception wasn’t good — Charlie thought.

“Are you still with me?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, mister Noe. I’m still here. Could you please describe the stolen items?”
“I told you. They stole my toilet.”
“Mr. Noe, I want to inform you that the misuse of the police line is considered a crime. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, lady, I do understand that. Now you understand this. I went to take a leak after not being home for a couple of days, and I found out my toilet was gone. Now, are you gonna help me with that?”

No words came from the receiver. Maybe I got a little carried away this time — Charlie thought.

“Very well, mister Noe. A report has been filed. We’ll send someone to check the situation as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.”

Charlie sat down and took a deep breath. Who stills a toilet? — He thought. All the stuff worth stealing in this house, and this psychopath decides to steal my toilet. That’s some sick behavior right there.

Charlie quickly stood up from the mahogany chair. He came to the realization that if his toilet was stolen, other stuff could be gone too. After all, the toilet was not the most precious possession in his house.

He ran to his bedroom, stood in the doorway and took a good look from left to right. And again from right to left. Nothing seemed to be missing and there was not any sign of someone being there while he was away. Not convinced, Charlie decided to take a look himself.

He looked under the bed but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He examined his night table, but everything was there. He went to the closet and checked each piece of clothing, but nothing was missing. He sat on the bed for a minute. There has to be something else missing, no one would go to the trouble of entering another person’s house just to steal a toilet — He thought.

The possible motives of the burglar fascinated Charlie. More than recuperating the stolen item what Charlie wanted to know was the why behind the burglar’s action. No use in thinking about — He thought. Some people are just sick.

Charlie made his way to the kitchen; he needed a drink to deal with the absurdity of the situation. He opened the refrigerator’s door and crouched to better see what it contained. Let’s see, I have two packs of beer here, the cheap stuff — He thought. I think I’ll go for the good stuff tonight. He closed the refrigerator’s door, disappointed with his past self for not stocking it better.

He then moved to a cabinet and took a bottle of Scotch. Still, not the premium stuff, but way better than cheap beer — He thought. He smiled while contemplating the bottle of liquor. It was a gift from his friend Ben, and he had been wanting to try it for weeks.

He walked to the living room and sat down. A bottle of Scotch in one hand, a glass with ice in the other. The lights were dim, giving the room a somber atmosphere. He twisted the bottle open, but there was no “crack” sound. How odd — He thought. Charlie lifted the bottle in front of his eyes. Motherfucker! — He said. The toilet robber has been drinking my whiskey! What Charlie thought to be an unopened bottle was barely over the shoulders; someone had opened it before he got to do it.

A knock on the door. Charlie left the whiskey on the coffee table and went to open it.

“Are you the toilet man?” The unknown man said.
“Excuse me?” Replied Charlie.
“Sir, are you Charles Noe, the man who reported a stolen toilet?”
“Yes. I am.”
“My name is Mike Williamson, from the police department. May I come in?”
“Of course.”

Mike noticed the coffee table and the whiskey that rested on it.

“Started early today, mister Noe,” Mike said.
“Not exactly. The toilet robber opened this bottle before I could.”
“He did, huh? Did he leave the glass with ice cubes there, too?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying, this toilet robber is starting to sound convenient.”
“Convenient? What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just saying. This burglar comes here, steals toilets, drinks whiskey. It’s starting to sound more and more absurd by the minute.”
“Oh yeah? Well, let me tell you something. I don’t like it any better than you do. I leave home for a couple of days, and when I come back, I discover I have to shit on the floor now. So excuse me if it doesn’t sound believable.”

Mike walked up to Charlie and looked him in the eyes. Very well — He said. Show me where this toilet was supposed to be.

Charlie made his way to the bathroom, accompanied by Mike. When they opened the door to the bathroom, things got even more absurd. The toilet was there. Perfectly installed as Charlie remembered it.

“But… It wasn’t here. Just a couple of hours ago. It wasn’t here.” Charlie said.
“Mister Noe, you’ll have to accompany me to the police station.”
“But. I wasn’t here…”

THE END.