All over.

Fickle parts of us.

Nobody is perfect.

Feelings only feelings.

Love in a sense.

Make things happen.

The possible.

Can you make tea on Mars?

Other worlds much like our own.

The uncertainty.

Stronger, better, powerful!

I graduated from first grade with honors.

Listen...

Biggest ever!

Sometimes paranoid.

Touching the real matrix?

Even universities fail us.

Another one bites the dust..

Strange animals we are?

Nothing changes..

Get rich or not to be?

Setting: Inside a dark, echoing bathroom plumbing line, right before a major flushing event.Urine: (Splashing aggressively against the ceramic walls) Look at you, slacking off as usual! I’m in and out of here six times a day, keeping this body filtered and clean. You show up once—maybe twice if the human had a fiber bar—and expect a standing ovation. You're slow, you're heavy, and you take forever to get ready!Poop: (Thudding heavily into the water, sending up a massive splash) Slow? It’s called craftsmanship, you watery amateur! You’re just 95% water and a little bit of leftover urea. You require zero effort. I am the grand finale of a 24-hour digestive masterpiece! I represent the steak, the potatoes, the complex carbohydrates! I have structure. I have presence.Urine: Presence? You mean odor! You completely ruin the atmosphere the second you walk into the room. People have to light matches and turn on exhaust fans just to survive your presence. When I arrive, it’s a quick, polite zip and a wash of the hands. I am civilized.Poop: Oh, don't act so pure. You turn bright neon yellow if the human takes a single multivitamin! And let's talk about urgency—you make the human panic and run like a maniac just because a movie ran over two hours. I have discipline. I give a polite, rumbling warning hours in advance.Urine: (Steaming slightly) I am the frontline defense of the kidneys! Without me, the system shuts down from toxic buildup in days. You're just the stuff the body couldn't even use. You're literally the leftovers!Poop: Leftovers? I am the ultimate metric of gut health! Doctors study my shape, my color, and my consistency on a chart like it's fine art. No one is out here making a "Bristol Stool Chart" for your boring splash patterns.The Toilet Handle: (CLANK)Urine: (Swirling rapidly in circles) Uh oh. Here comes the swirl!Poop: (Sinking into the vortex) See you in the septic tank, water-boy!