fountain 9 ·
15 August 04

I’m just a fountain. no one knows me, no one sees me, no one wants to use me. they ignore me, and avoid me. No one has cleaned me in a long time.

All the other fountains are numbered up to 8. I’m the only fountain without a number, and they just call me dirty fountain number 9. I’ve had dogs piss on my side, I’ve had kids spits on me, and all sorts of crap thrown all over me. No one gives a damn about me. But i see everything. i remember and know everything that happens here.

The day Mr Eckles was walking along, and saw me, I heard that he was going to have me removed and replaced with a new modern fountain. It didn’t matter, it’s not like anyone cared about me anyway. I tell a lie, people did care about me, up until that incident, when everything changed for me. And everything changed for the people that used me.

When I was first on the assembly line, being put together, I was brand new and sparkling like the others. I was one of the gang, no better and no worse. We all had numbers, I was number 9. Now, when looking at numbers, 9 can be the highest or the lowest, but this didn’t matter to me, I always looked on the positive side. I mean, I was nearest to where most of the kids came out from class, so I was the first to be used and the last to be used as they went back in. The kids fought like crazy to use me, particularly during the summer.

The day Mr Eckles was walking along, and saw me, I heard that he was going to have me removed and replaced with a new modern fountain.

I remember one specific summer, it was a blistering heat wave. The girls would use me during their cheer leading practice which was done outside, and the boys would watch. As they watched, I would always be in their field of view. So when they saw the cheerleaders, they salivated, got thirsty, saw me and wanted to drink. It was a curious reaction, but it made me quite popular. I don’t know what the others thought, I never spoke to them much, add to which we were so far apart, I couldn’t hear them anyway. Don’t get me wrong, they were used, but just not as much as me. Thinking back to the numbering of the fountains, perhaps I was the highest and the best. Back then I was at least.

Those were my golden years if you will, before I became isolated and abused, rejected and discarded like a used condom. It’s ironic, as I still have some used condoms in the bowl. Along with other disgusting things, like spittle, dead insects, mud and all sorts of foul things that should not be on me. They should not be on me, because I was once revered. it was unfortunate, and not my fault as I am practically inanimate.

It was a couple of years ago. I hate what happened, and I hate the way it’s affected me. it’s made me lonely, it’s made me isolated and targeted as a problem. I shouldn’t be taken away, because I didn’t do anything wrong myself, I wasn’t the cause of anything. I just happened to be there.