"Hello welcome to my shark tank pitch," I announce as I confidently stand in front of the sharks. My feet are spread at least 5 yards apart from one another to assert my dominance over the investors.
My hands are folded in a prayer like position so as to call upon God's assistance, as I know, secretly, He is a huge fan of my product. Although He has frequently claimed that He is absolutely not every evening when I talk to Him, I firmly believe that God is only intimidated by my invention. He is afraid that I might make His work look like a toddler's painting, a pathetic attempt at artistry and inventive thinking, while my work outshines His, or, at the very least, mildly annoyingly blinds His work.
"Today I will be introducing the quieiolet." I cannot help but smirk. Saying the word quieiolet makes me want to scream out and laugh like a maniac nonstop for three minutes. The sudden joy of finally being able to relieve myself from the burden that is keeping a secret overthrows me almost to the point where I have to suppress an oncoming orgasm. I compose Myself.
"Don't you also wish your faecal," I feel one of my eyebrows as well as the corner of my mouth perk up at that word, "noises weren't so loud? Well we've got a solution, introducing the quieiolet." Again, verbalizing the magic word makes My legs shudder in toilet lid uplifting delight. I clear My throat once again, barely being able to contain My ecstasy.
"That's right! The genius name probably already gives its main function away! This..." I interrupt Myself as My breathing has become irregular and faster than it was before. The sharks look at Me worriedly, except the bald guy because he is kind of an asshole (I think, I do not remember very well). I slap Myself softly because I am a kinky ass hoe but also in an attempt to get My shit together.
"This so far unchallenged and unmatched toilet silences all those awkward tinkling," I pause for a breath, "and awfully loud splashing sounds!" The pitch in My voice went up three octaves in the second part of that sentence. It was getting more and more difficult for Me to keep all these pent up emotions inside. Though My smile feels like it could light up the entire universe, the sharks remain unfazed by its magnificence in their squeeky leather chairs.
"It works as follows..." My shaky hands reach for the lid and miss their mark couple times. My ecstatic gaze never leaves their dull faces.
The opening of the lid is immediately followed by the uproar of the sharks. They are quaking in their seats. The guy on the far left bends over to belch, he does not seem to be able to stop. The lady in the middle, Mary or something, has started to shake and scream out words that I fail to make out. The guy next to her has turned an alarming shade of red, his knuckles form a nice contrast by seemingly glowing almost as their whiteness is so powerful. His eyes are wide, so wide they could nearly pop out at any second. The dude next to him sits.
I knew My invention would have their wigs further than three galaxies over, but never had I ever, even in My wildest dreams, expected such an explosive reaction. I took this as a sign from God Himself to go on, despite feeling like I should not as My work was difficult to be properly perceived by the living.
"With the scientific addition of silencing foam to the inside of the toilet, the pooper is enabled to do their job without having to worry about their fellow humans hearing them." I walk over to the Powerpoint presentation which I had masterfully concocted the night before. It showed the side view of the hairy foam.
"Here we can see the hair like tentacles which break the fall of the usually very loud bodily excretion," I say as I point to what I am describing.
The guy who sits nods his head once while the others have not ceased expressing their amazement the way I have described a couple paragraphs before. I'm not doing that again.
"Randy?" I let out in a moan. The thought of the oncoming happening alone was just too much for Me. "Randy would you mind assisting me in performing a live demo?" I ask the guy with the impossibly white knuckles, the pitch in My voice once again surpasses that of a dog whistle towards the end of the sentence. He looks at Me, with his face redder than red objects that are very red.
"Randy get the fuck up there," the guy who sits mutters to the red guy, whose name is probably not actually Randy.
Randy does not move. He is only red, with a tinge of white.
"That is all right," I say as I laugh to mask the bitterness caused by Randy's incompency to utilise My creation. I fold My hands once again, this time they are shaking because of My flaming anger. I pray to God that He yeets Randy into the firiest pits of hell without a single scrap of remorse.
"This is disconcerning, if anything." The guy who sits has his eyebrows deeply furrowed in thought, a function of which I deemed him incapable. He has started to get on My nerves as well.
"How so?" I ask him.
"So the toilet--" the guy who sits begins but I cut him off.
"Quieiolet," I correct him whilst devising a plan for his demise.
"Yes, okay." He takes a pause to sigh. "So this Quieiolet--" I interrupt him with a short moan which I could not repress. It was, after all, the first time that I had experienced the word that means the most to me being said by someone else.
The guy who sits has one eyebrow up, looking at me with judging eyes. I knew he could never match God's judging eyes. A pathetic attempt. He looks to the others who have still not stopped expressing their awe. Finally he meets my elated gaze again and mutters, "Yes? Can I speak?"
"Yes, you may speak." Is this what God feels like? I wonder.
"Okay so it is lined with some sort of furry substance," he states as if to imply some error which I, according to him, must have overlooked during the creation.
"Yes," I nod. The guy who sits takes notes.
"How old are you?"
"I'm fifty-two and three quarters."
"Alright, where do you live?"
"I live in a small town in Florida."
"Alone?"
"Nope, I have a friend with whom I live." I thought of my friend, God, and smiled.
"What do you usually eat for breakfast?"
"Cereal."
"Lunch?"
"Sometimes a good spicy curry but sometimes just straight peanut butter."
"P.B." He nods his head as he is scribbling away. "Any pets?"
"Three brown birds."
"What kind are they?"
"Birds, the brown kind."
"Okay, and how much are you asking for?"
"I asked for five and then I got five but then two died because I forgot to feed those two because all the brown birds kind of look like each other."
"I meant how much money for how much of your company?" Impeccable use of words here.
"Oh, 500 mil for 2%"
The lady who is in the teleshopping business momentarily stops screaming indecipherable words and yells in clear, comprehendible English: "DEAL."
"Okay bye."
Exits
