Toilet

Forged in the celestial fires of the High Kiln during the Age of Vitreous China, this was no mere vessel of waste, but The Great White Throne, known in the ancient scrolls as "The Swirler," whose destiny was prophesied by the Plumbers of Old to be the one true fixture that would swallow the sins of the world without clogging. His saga, chronicled across the Chronicles of the S-Trap Trilogy, began when he was ripped from the safety of his cardboard chrysalis and bolted to the floor of the Beige Sanctum, a lonely outpost where he was forced to endure the "Ass-cension," a period of great darkness where he faced the terrible scourge of the Morning After Curry and the terrifying tyranny of the One-Ply Paper. When the Great Plunger of Destiny was finally presented to him during the climax of the second book, The Swirler did not tremble, nor did he crack under the pressure of the 1.6-gallon-per-flush mandate; instead, he looked up at his creators with his lid held high and rumbled, "I’ve seen some shit in my day, but this really takes the piss." Throughout the turbulent Third Age, he stood as the silent guardian of the grout, fighting back the rising tides of the Septic Rebellion with a wax ring of pure willpower, and though many a backside sought to dethrone him, he remained the ceramic steadfast, cold to the touch but burning with a duty to accept what others rejected. Even as the water level rose dangerously high during the Siege of the Clogged Pipe, he merely gurgled, "Urine trouble if you think I can't handle a massive load," before engaging his mighty siphon jet to banish the darkness below. Now, he sits in eternal vigilance, a veteran of a thousand flushes, waiting for the next challenger to approach his rim so he might whisper his final, ancestral truth: "Don't get cheeky with me, or it's all going down the drain."