Pissed off and REFUSING TO 'MEET THE FLINTSTONES' DESPITE desperate PLEAs coming from nearby television / by Dante Sacomani

Earlier I woke up and found a note taped to the table. The tape was brown and wide. The kind you don’t remember buying. The note was in my handwriting. It was a short note. The kind you don’t remember writing.

I looked for the tape roll and could not find it anywhere in my house. It was not on the table or on the floor near the table. It was also not in the cutlery drawer in my kitchen, which – I am ashamed to say – has for years been more of a dumpsite for unopened mail and past season’s greetings cards. All this comforted me. I do not think i would like to own a whole roll of brown tape.

The note said:

these are the notes. but they’ll become the thing.

we’re sitting in a bar!

no, hey, we are sitting at home.

She is gone. but that’s okay cuz she goes.

please come back. we cant own a note like this.

what a big bomb. what’d we do.

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