2-Pack: DUDE Wiper 1000 Self-Cleaning Dual-Nozzle Bidet Attachment

  • Some goofy branding, some not so goofy relief
  • Seriously… if you don’t have one of these yet, you’re missing out!
  • Adjustable wash pressure and two spray angles, thanks to the dual nozzles
  • Also: cleans itself (thank God)
  • Want to up your toilet game even more? Check out SideDeal
  • Favorite Blink-182 album: Can’t decide between Dude Ranch and Enema of the State
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The Bidets Of Our Lives

We now return to, The Bidets Of Our Lives

[GRANT enters the sitting room, sighing deeply before he sees DIANE, lounging on the sofa, looking distraught.]

GRANT: Diane! I didn’t see you there! Home so soon after the reading the of the will? Don’t tell me your dastardly twin cousin Erin managed to get her way and secure the rare painting that belonged to your grandmother and that might just hold some clue to your childhood, of which you can remember so little since the accident.

DIANE: I’m afraid it’s so, Grant. But we can discuss that later. For I can’t help but think there’s something you’re not telling me. Why, dear husband, do you wear that expression of guilt?

[GRANT sits down next to DIANE.]

GRANT: I must admit, my love, that my conscience is not so clean as my undercarriage at the moment.

DIANE: I knew it! You’re not Grant at all, are you? Because Grant never came back from the war, did he? You’re one of his platoon mates, and you’ve taken his identity and gotten plastic surgery to look like him so that you can get your hands on my family’s money! And you’re not working alone! No, it’s you and that so-called neurosurgeon who can’t seem to make heads or tails of my amnesia, isn’t it? I knew I couldn’t trust Doctor Betsy!

GRANT: What? No. I went downtown for coffee and took some quarters from your bureau to pay for parking. I’m sorry, Diane. Really. I hate to steal from you.

DIANE: But you just said that your conscience was not so clean as your undercarriage.

GRANT: Yes, I did, but it’s really more of a statement about my undercarriage in this case. You see, I installed a Dude Wiper bidet attachment to our toilet. And I know what you’re thinking. ‘Grant, you’re not a plumber. You’re a soldier turned attorney-slash-scientist with a mysterious scar behind your ear that you refuse to explain. What are you doing messing with a bidet attachment?’

DIANE: I wasn’t thinking that…

GRANT: But Diane, it’s actually very easy to install! And now that it’s in place, it can work its magic after each of my colossal movements, cleaning, refreshing, and deodorizing the area of exit in one spritz whose intensity, I should mention, is adjustable.

DIANE: Okay, Grant, that’s just about enough…

GRANT: But you said you wanted me to share more! To open up to you!

DIANE: I was talking about your feelings.

GRANT: And that’s what I’m trying to tell you, Diane. I feel amazing, and not just in the rectal region either. It’s as if the aforementioned spritz traveled entirely through me, making me feel like myself for the first time in I don’t know how long. Why, if I wasn’t a man of science, I would say that the rump is the true doorway to one’s psyche, or, to put it differently–

[GRANT is interrupted by a ringing phone. DIANE, eager for the conversation to end, gets up to answer it.]

DIANE: Yes… hello… thank you… yes… right way.

[DIANE hangs up.]

GRANT: And who was that? Your dastardly twin cousin?

DIANE: No. It was our daughter.

[GRANT leaps to his feet.]

GRANT: But Diane, you never told me we have a daughter!

DIANE: Grant, I’m so sorry!

GRANT: Do you think she needs a bidet attachment? I got a 2-pack. On Meh.

To be continued on The Bidets Of Our Lives

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