Exterior: Modest house. Camera zooms through wall into the
Interior: Combination living room/scientist’s lair. A two-headed man is seated on the sofa. Across the room, a door opens onto a kitchen, where something bubbles. Theremin music emits from an open laptop.

Right Head: I have an idea for a toilet story.
Left Head (glances up sharply from a psychology book): No.
Right Head: A funny toilet story.
Left Head: There are no funny toilet stories.
Right Head (chuckles): This one is.
Left Head: No.
Right Head: The punch line is…
Left Head: I don’t wanna hear it. Nobody does.
Right Head: Colonoscopy…
Left Head: I’m serious. How does your mind work?
Right Head: Colored toilet bowl freshener balls…
Left Head (Holding hands over ears) Lalalalala.
Right Head: What is your problem?
Left Head: You mean your problem. Toilet stories are never funny. They are cringy at best, and usually merely gross. No one is funny on the toilet. Not the Marx Brothers, not Mr. Bean, not Monty Python. And what do you think people visualize when you tell one? We are 61 years old. No one wants to imagine us on a toilet.
Right Head: Hm. Good point.
Left Head: And plus, your last blog post involved a burst sewer pipe.
Right Head: Hm.
(Silence. Left Head reopens book.)
Right Head: I’m still going in for the colonoscopy tho.
Left Head (Sighs. Recloses book, gazes up at ceiling)