TOILET:
Well Bret, I can’t sit here and watch you get this angry and not feel like I’m partially to blame…
BRET:
No! No toilet, I already told you to stay out of this! This is between Shower and me.
TOILET:
But, I mean, I get dirty too. You have to clean me also and I feel like I should at least share the blame here.
BRET:
No! Not at all! Because I poop in you! I poop in you and I pee in you! You should be dirty! You’re supposed to be dirty! Not like… like… HIM!
SHOWER:
You’ve got to be kidding me.
BRET:
Why? Why are you so filthy? Your whole role in life is one of cleanliness! Every day, water and soaps wash over you! Water and soap! Not poo and pee!
SHOWER:
Yeah, well there’s soap scum and mildew, whatever, just clean me. It’s not a big deal.
BRET:
No! No! It is a big deal because to clean you I have to climb all up inside you and scrub absurdly hard and it’s all wet and a mess and I can’t do it wearing clothes because they’d get all wet and I can’t take my clothes off because cleaning naked is just too weird!
SHOWER:
Maybe the problem is that you’re just a weirdo.
BRET:
Weirdo eh? Weirdo? You’re the talking bathroom fixtures!
SINK:
Maye we are. Or maybe you’ve just had a lot of Mountain Dews and are lamely trying to write a rip off of Porter’s “On the Stuff in my Room” in a sad attempt to cash in on that thought’s success.
BRET:
Zing, Sink. Zing.