Toilet
It really wasn't fair. The toilet had never asked to be a toilet it reflected bitterly. It would have liked to be a ceiling or a sink perhaps, or even a floor, but a toilet? Ugh. It was the toilet in the corner, and it was the only toilet who thought that being a toilet sucked butt. All the other toilets were excited when in the morning, after a cold night, a nice warm bottom would descend and plop down on their faces. This toilet hated it.
Most of the toilets didn't really like the corner toilet very much. It was the toilet that had bulimic people splashing vomit all over its rim, fat girls sitting and crying on it's seat, or people using razors on their wrists, flushing the evidence away, so taken a different view at existence than the others. It showed its dissatisfaction by plugging up a lot, refusing to flush, or sometimes flushing so vigorously that the water would leave light drops of water and urine on a person's clothing. Even the toilet by the sink was happier than that corner toilet by the wall. The sink would burble and rush merrily, whereas the wall just said blank white sort of things.
It was one of those days where the toilet was dully depressed and lacked energy to process yet another monstrous slightly bloody turd. When no people were in the bathroom, the toilets would talk to each other in a porcelain silence, exchanging stories about the girls who in the past had tried to flush tampons or about those boys who had thrown went lumps of toilet paper up at the ceiling only to have the ceiling rebel and the lumps rained down on their thickly gelled hair with a wet plop. Oh and that one girl who found out that she was pregnant and started crying… The stony whispers continued.
The corner toilet listened to all of this silently, listened to these bright and cheery toilets making fun of unfortunate people and tried to get the turd into the pipes. It had managed to get the toilet paper, but now it was having issues. It isn't fair at all, the toilet thought again. I was made around the same time as these guys, the toilet to my left gets a couple vomiters now and then, so what's wrong with me? It swirled angrily at the debris in the bowl. If I can break this monster down enough, it thought, perhaps I can just squeeze it through. The truth was though the toilet was around the same age as the others, it was more worn out from trying to process massive amounts of fecal matter every day and having angry people kick its handle down to flush.
Unfortunately for the corner toilet, a janitor had noticed both the corner toilet's efforts and how much water said efforts used up. The corner toilet felt no regret that it was leaving the others, instead it felt a sense of happiness to be able to retire to a nice landfill or junkyard and settle down. In the end, it spent the rest of its days filled with soil and used as a massive painted flowerpot for a hippy couple.