Urinal cakes get a pretty bad rap. People say they’re tacky, pee-speckled, and flavorless. But what if we told you about a revolutionary and virulent new strain of urinal cake that not only comes in a palatable host of colors AND flavors, but is also a phone charger powered by a renewable energy source?

Hold up. Did we say flavors? Scents. We meant scents…

Our cakes have been hand-selected by artisans from the finest urinals across the country, before they’re retrofitted with eye-watering innovations. And better yet, these cakes come inflamed with a rotating potpourri of complimentary goodies, including but not limited to: a jug of water, a hand trolley to push the jug around, and a 5-day trial of Life Alert.

We wanted to call it the “pPod,” but the brand managers named it the “iCup.” When those assholes aren’t around we just call it “The Cake.” Here’s how it works:

Place The Cake in a urinal, in a toilet, on your office chair, or on your lunch, and then plug your phone into The Cake’s dock. Take the enclosed coaxial cable — the adapter end should face you — and screw the other end into The Cake’s hole.

Then, simply insert the urethral adapter into your pee hole.

Now you’re ready to harness the power of pee pee!

As you evacuate your bladder, hundreds of miniature water wheels inside the coaxial cable churn the turbines inside the reactor core. A river runs through it!

The volatile Cake core’s beating heart is a spinning, combustible vape battery we’ve licensed from GREWL, and although The Cake is powder-coated with a one-inch thick layer of dissolvable sugar, and it looks like a candied apple, you probably shouldn’t bite into it, unless you want to get your teeth blown out.

It’s okay to pee pee on it, though.

But once your Cake’s protective crust wears thin, make sure to send it in for a fresh powder coat, and for our team of nuclear engineers to check core stability.

That’s right. This isn’t just a phone-charging pee pod. It’s also a piss-triggered handheld nuclear reactor that is in very close proximity to your sweaty penis or vulva. Pretty dope, right? Don’t worry — you can smell The Cake, but The Cake can’t smell your junk.

As the urine exits The Cake’s core, it will leak onto whatever is under The Cake. And that’s important, because the appearance of your urine says a lot about you. And that’s why we’ve included a complimentary camera and light attachment that automatically records and uploads a livestream of your flow to a team of data scientists who are monitoring your pee pee 24 hours a day. See some milky strings? That’s probably just a retrograde ejaculation. Don’t worry — we’ll look into it.

Adapters are one-size-fits-all, but may be resized in a pissy pinch. Just take the complimentary oxy-acetylene torch and heat the urethral adapter’s experimental metal alloy facade to 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Then find a little stick and scrape off any undesired molten “metal.” Alternatively, for those who suffer from baggy urethras, just take the complimentary uninflated balloon and stretch it over the adapter head. And make sure to poke a hole through it…

Snoochie boochies!

To charge your phone twice as fast, attach the complimentary nipple clamps. It’s just like jump-starting a car: The positive (+) jumper cable clamps to the left (L) boob. The negative (-) jumper cable clamps to the right (R) boob. If you don’t follow these instructions, you won’t have boobs. But due to a manufacturing error, the cables and clamps are identical, so you’ve got a 50-50 shot. And due to customer demand, we’ve included a complimentary third clamp for those among us who have three nipples. Clamping three nipples boosts charging speeds by an additional 25%. No third nipple? No problem! We’ll send you one!

Now, the only thing about the urethral adapter is that it overheats after prolonged contact with urine. You’ll need to start and stop your flow constantly to prevent the adapter from igniting. Pee for 5 seconds, stop for 10. Pee for 2 seconds, stop for 30. Pee for 1 second, stop for 60. Deep breath. Now pee for 1 second — you fucked up! It’s sparking! Take the complimentary box cutter and puncture the complimentary water jug. Now kneel in front of the jug and drench your loins in the cascade of what appears to be fresh water.

Here’s where it gets interesting.

That’s actually President Donald J. Trump’s recycled urine. We tapped his keg, so to speak. It’s okay — it was hand-sifted by artisans. We bottle it and sell it in supermarkets as Purine. People love it!

See? Look at that. President Donald J. Trump’s pee pee made your boo boo all better!

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a urinal cake? That’s a good question, and one that President Donald J. Trump is dead set on finding the answer to, because we sent him a complimentary Cake and he really likes the way it tastes. He doesn’t know its name, but he does know the risks — and he STILL can’t stop licking it!

His advisors haven’t told him to put The Cake down — they’re too afraid, too resigned, or too conniving. And we haven’t said anything either… because that just seems like a personal problem.

Did we mention The Cake is backwards-compatible with the Game Boy Advance? Well… IT IS. Play all your favorite games in piss-perfect resolution on your phone or tablet! Not only do the numerous cartridge slots that streak The Cake’s sweet shell provide an attractive display for your games, but, to protect The Cake’s delicate reactor core in the event of a drop, it is CRITICAL that you have cartridges inserted in all of them all the time.

The Cake that burns twice as bright burns half as long!

And your Cake has burned so very, VERY brightly…

WHOOP WHOOP! The unstable reactor core melted down and blew out the walls and the toilet—and we’re here for it. But we can’t help you. It’s a known issue, and we’re looking into it, but we’re not responsible. You really should have read the contract. Press the fucking button on your complimentary Life Alert. That will connect you to President Donald J. Trump. We tapped his Presidential phone, so to speak. The Secret Service doesn’t seem to mind — they’re just curious where we pump the pee from. We keep telling them it’s beneath the Office of the President. They think we’re kidding!

As you lay writhing on the bathroom floor, inhaling grains of radioactive sugar, your body pierced from head to toe with smoldering Game Boy Advance cartridge shards, just remember one thing:

This is all your fault!

With your last breaths, tell your President everything, tell him what it was that cost you your video game collection — and your life — even if you have to spell it out for him:

“i… C… u… p!”

He won’t know what you’re talking about. But he might smile!