VNR: Hello Toilet Paper. Thank you for speaking with us today. May we call you, Toilet Paper?

TP: Sure. I guess. My friends call me, TP. So, yeah. You can call me Toilet Paper.

VNR: Okay. Thank you. Out first…

TP: Or Wipey. No one’s called me “Wipey” before. Maybe a cool nickname is all I need. Or not. Ugh. I don’t know. I feel like shit.

VNR: Okay, yeah. We can call you…

Wipey: Just, don’t call me “Captain Crap”, “Bum-licker”, “Scat Spelunker,” “Major Moon,” “Admiral Ass,” “Gerald,” or “Shithead.” This guy I went to highschool with called me that all the time. Maybe that’s where this all started?

VNR: Wow. That sounds terrible. Surely your parents helped? Maybe offered some comforting words, like “shits and wipers may tear these fibers, but names will never hurt me?”

Shithead: Wow, for real dude? Did you have that one saved up or something?

VNR: Sorry. That was unprofessional.

Shithead: Sure, whatever dude. Anyway, nah man. My parents didn’t roll me back together when I’d come unraveled. They never cared about the loads I had to carry. They just lived for the moment, tearing it up wherever they went, before they eventually got shitty.

VNR: Did you eventually get away from the bully in highschool who kept calling you those names? It is not cool to name-call or mock people.

Poopy Squisher: I just waited for my dad to finally get flushed.

VNR: Your…

Poopy Squisher: …

VNR: … You mean to say… … <frantic hand gesturing> …

Poopy Squisher: … …

VNR: … dad? …

Poopy Squisher: …

VNR: … <hand gesturing> …

Poopy Squisher: …

VNR: …

Poopy Squisher: … … … <middle finger>

VNR: So, where do you see yourself in five years?

Poopy Squisher: Oh come on man! That’s the last wipe. I’m out of here! I’m not dealing with this shit anymore.

---

TP did storm (roll) out of the interview right after this and frankly we thought the interview was down the drain. However, after reaching out to their agent and making an apology and amends, TP rejoined us to finish the interview, butt tensions were high...

---

VNR: Thank you for coming back. You really saved our ass.

Poopy Squisher:..

VNR: You’re right. That was unprofessional. Again, we’re sorry. Okay, take 2…

Poopy Squisher: Three. Take 3.

VNR: Yes. You’re right. Take 3. Now, Wipey, when we were speaking earlier you’d mentioned that you’ve been feeling down. Would you say more about that?

Poopy Squisher: Yeah, I did. Look, it’s hard to be this soft, knowing that all life has in-store for me is being flushed down the drain, y’know, metaphorically…

VNR: …and quite literally too!

Poopy Squisher: Yes. Thank you, for, the reminder. Look, if I stay soft, then people use me up just so they can feel better.  But, if I turn hard, brittle, and rough, people just throw me away without even using me. So like, what’s worse? Do I live my purpose knowing at the end I’ll be met with shit and the Drain of Death? Or, do I harden my heart, turn rough, itchy, and sandpapery, alienate everyone, and be thrown away but at least without getting shit on.

VNR: You’ve never visited a truck stop bathroom then? Or a park? A kindergarten or warehouse bathroom?

Poopy Squisher: See?! That’s what I’m talking about! Everyone always says that! “Oh! What about your cousins in other toilets? You’ve got it so much better! At least in this life there’s a chance you might wrap someone’s house and then be picked apart by a bird and used in a nest.” But no! People are always tearing me apart to clean up their messes, always making fun of me! Hey wait. Did you change my name?

VNR: Nope.

Wipey: Yes you did!

VNR: Ummm… no we didn’t.

Wipey: Hey, you just changed it back! Goddamnit!! No one takes me seriously! What about my dreams, huh?!

VNR: What do you dream of? A land where paper-based AIs will wipe the behind of every human? A bidet in every restroom?

Doody Wrapping: To find a quiet shelf with another roll, be forgotten by a homeowner who then dies, but they live on a remote island where nobody goes to check on them and I get to grow old and disintegrate with a tube I love. Maybe it takes ten years for the trust to even settle the probate, then they have to find the next of kin who’s buried in the backyard… Y’know, something like that.

VNR: Did you murder someone?

Mr. Toilet Paper, Sir: … Oh, hmmm? What’s that?

VNR: … OMG… You really did it, didn’t you? You killed a man!

Mr. Toilet Paper, Sir: …

VNR: …

Mr. Toilet Paper, Sir: …

VNR: … … …

Mr. Toilet Paper, Sir: … … …

VNR: Does being made of recycled paper make you born again? Or are you Frankenstein’s Wipe, a Frankenwipe?

Grumpy Growler: Goddamnit!

VNR: Have you ever actually been to the Super Bowl? Did you ever play for The Browns? Were you covering a tight-end, a full back? Or were you a receiver?

Grumpy Growler: That’s it! I’ve had enough! You might be able to ply into my private life but you’ll never flush my dignity!!

VNR: Is the Porcelain God a loving god, a benevolent god? Or when urine trouble, does he watch you dissolve?

Grumpy Growler: Goodbye!!

VNR: If toilets flush backwards in Australia, do you have to wipe backwards also? Or do you do everything in reverse order, wipe first then poop?

Grumpy Growler: <storming off>

VNR: In order to tell a human that the wiping is done, do you have to shout “Wiper no wiping!!” 3 times?!? Hello??

---

Twenty minutes later, Wiper was found dead in a truck-stop bathroom with a note, written on his last sheet, that said…

“I dreamed a dream in rolls gone by, when ply was high, and life worth wiping.
I dreamed my sheets would never die.
I dreamed that butt would be forgiving”