Upon emerging from the shower, Hortencia realized she had forgotten to bring a towel from the Lenin closet (the cupboard wherein the family kept their sheets, towels, and V. I. Lenin).  Seeing no other option, she decided to try and shake dry, not unlike a dog.
“What the hell are you doing?”  Asked the toilet seat cover.  “Are you having a seizure or something?”
“I’m trying to shake dry.”  Hortencia replied, thrashing about.
“You look retarded.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not gonna work.”
“Quit talkin’ to me!  I’m naked!”
“It only works for dogs because they have fur.”
“Shh!”
It soon occurred to Hortencia that she wasn’t fully capable of shaking and talking at the same time when she lost her balance in mid-thrust, slipped and fell down on the bathroom floor.
“I told you.”  The toilet seat said.
“Shut up, you’re a toilet seat cover!  You’re not even the actual toilet seat itself!”  Hortencia exclaimed.  “And for the last time, quit talking to me while I’m in the nude!”
“… but I don’t have any eyes.”