I had an idea for a YA story aimed more at younger boys about a guy who heard the voice of the universe through his toilet. Here are a few excerpts that came to mind when I was thinking about where this idea could go.
I’m sitting here waiting in a cafe because the voice of the universe spoke to me through my toilet. I know it sounds crazy. My name? Now that’s a story. My father was a hippie. My mother was Native American, Comanche actually. When my mother was pregnant with me, they went to the medicine woman, who told them they must name me after the place where I would be born.
They planned to be in Phoenix, Arizona when I was born. I was going to be named Phoenix Arizona, kinda cool. Instead, when my Mom was seven months pregnant, they decided to go to a peace march in Washington. I was born in Washington, DC. So my name? It’s District of Columbia, District of Columbia Campbell or DC for short.
I’d like to think my parents were dropping acid, smoking a little too much ganja, or at least on a three day bender, but they say they were high on love.
She also told them I was twins, girls, but they didn’t think to ignore her just because she was wrong on number and sex. No, they followed her instructions to a T. I’d like to kick the ass of a medicine woman about now.
Here is DC talking to the toilet.
I sat in the bathroom floor at the appointed time, notebook and sharpie in hand waiting for the voice of the universe with his instructions.
Minutes ticked by. The minutes turned to hours. In an act I can only expain as boredom, I drained the water from the toilet and began drawing. The voice of the universe should have a face. Two eyes, a nose, the mouth was well obvious, and a moustache. I was just finishing the beard.
“I have a beard now? Seriously, the voice of the universe has a beard? What do you think I’m ZZ Top?” A rumbling voice echoed from the toilet.
“You’re late,” I replied.
“So I’m a few minutes late.”
“Minutes? Try hours.”
“In the span of the universe, you’re lucky I got here this decade. You think the voice of the universe doesn’t have things to do? A train wreck in Nepal, a tsunami off of the coast of New Zealand, the merger of Google and Yahoo, and that’s just on planet. Meteors colliding, suns burning out prematurely. You think I don’t have things to take care of?”
“Yea, okay. I’m sorry.” I felt like self center bastard. “Which was it?”
“Train wreck, tsunami, meteor, sun, what?”
“I was playing botchy ball with the Guardian of the Moon.”
“I was down by two.”
“And so I waited?” I was tempted to flush.
“You think the voice of the universe isn’t competitive? I’m very competitive. It’s how I got this gig. Now, let’s get down to business. I don’t have all century here.”
I imagine poor DC would be sent on some adventure to save the world or perhaps the very universe.
Now if you seriously hear the voice of the universe through your toilet, you can’t really use it for its intended purpose. So now, poor DC is a regular visitor at the corner gas station. I imagine his visits might go something like this –
“Hey, DC,” the man behind the counter said, without looking up from his newspaper.
“Brought my own,” I said, waving a roll of TP, a long stream threading the air after me.
“Good boy. Weathers good today,” Bubba continued, with his soft southern drawl.
“Hey, do you have any red rhino?” It was my favorite power drink.
“Got a shipment last week.”
“Can I get a case?” I yelled from the men’s room, flushing the toilet.
“Sure. Planning a road trip?”
“Voice of the Universe?”
“Beef jerky, you need beef jerky for a road trip,” he stated more than asked, as I came to the counter case of red rhino in hand.
“No… Yes… No… Twelve Slim Jims.” I finally decided.
“Good choice.” Bubba loaded the beef jerky into a plastic bag. “Get the details before you leave,” he yelled, as I was leaving his face back in the paper.
“Get all the details from your toilet. You never know when you’ll find one that resonates with the right frequency and wavelength. So get all the details before you leave.”
“Oh, yea thanks.” I started out the door. “How …?”
“You think you’re the only one who’s ever heard the Voice of the Universe.”
“No, I guess not.”
DC needs a posse, a team to help him conquer evil. A trifecta is in order. DC is of course the first in our trio. A male companion, one able to stand up to a personality like DCs is needed. I think I’ll add the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama. Since this is a farce, he was reincarnated as a dog and is a little chauvinistic. The third personality should be female, beautiful and have a history with the Dalai Lama, perhaps Illiana, Godess of War and Love. So the first encounter might not go smoothly after a few centuries of feuding. —
A beautiful woman stood at the chair across from mine.
“This chair taken?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“What a cute dog,” she said, patting Dalai’s head so hard he winced.
“Ass,” Dalai growled.
“Pig,” she replied, tossing her dark hair back with a flip of her head.
The dog and woman seemed acquainted, but refused to look at each other.
“You didn’t call,” the woman said, malice evident in her voice.
“It was one date,” the dog replied. “Centuries ago, lay off it.”
(As the conversation continued, Dalai and Illiana disagree with the approach for saving the world.”
“I think I know best,” Dalai continued, lecturing, “I have lived for five centuries.”
“Four and a half.” Illiana’s dark eyes sparkled.
“Four and a half. Remember the snake in Bangalore?”
“That was you. That snake bite killed me.”
“You didn’t call.”
“Enough with the calling.”
“Jerk.” Illiana slammed her cup down.
“You should talk.”
“Check again, I’m all man.” Dalai’s ears lifted.
“You check again.” Illiana smirked.
Dalia gave a quick double check only to realize Illiana was right. He was indeed a female dog.
“Are you kidding me?” he yelled, looking skyward. “Not just a dog, but a female dog. Are you kidding me?”
“Karma sucks.” Illiana took another sip of coffee.
“Asshole,” Dalai replied.
“You might want to stop calling me names. Last time it was bitch and look what happened. Keep it up. You never know what you might come back as next.”