The Unhappy Toothpaste
"Look at me," it complains.
"I am all pasty and pale. It is almost June, and here I am, stuck inside."
"But you are minty fresh!" points out the cap.
"Oy," moans the Unhappy Toothpaste. "That hardly makes me unique, now does it?"
"Just trying to help."
The Unhappy Toothpaste can hardly stand it. It mutters, "I am surrounded with morons."
Then The Lady comes into the bathroom and the Unhappy Toothpaste goes all gooey, which isn't difficult for it to do.
At her touch, at the slightest squeeze, the Unhappy Toothpaste gives part of itself to her without hesitation, and that part is soon all foamy with joy!
Then she spits it out and it goes down the drain.
Now the Unhappy Toothpaste is even unhappier.
"I kill germs and bacteria that cause gingivitis. I whiten. I freshen breath. I can even be used to fill small holes in plaster. Why am I not loved?"
Even the cap doesn't know how to help with the awkward silence that follows.
Then the Unhappy Toothpaste squeaks plaintively, "I even give good oral."
But it makes no difference. The Unhappy Toothpaste has no brain, no heart, no hands, and no survivability outside the tube!
A movie career seems unlikely, except, perhaps, in a supporting role.
Enter the Dissatisfied Hand Cream.
I can't give away the rest.