tremble clef

Sunday, November 19, 2006

The 411, "Dumb" (2004)

I spent most of the weekend beginning to pack up my apartment. (I'm moving. Where to? Who knows? I'm trying the homeless thing for a while! Awesome!)

The movers provide me the boxes I need; since they believe in recycling (i.e., are trying to save a buck), these are old ones that previous clients of theirs have used before. On the boxes are therefore written all manner of descriptions that keep me amused and occupied as I prepare to de-occupy. "Kitchen." "Bedroom Toys." "Australia Slides" ("Aaannndd...," I think, "Australia's safe at home!"). "Jen :) " (to distinguish her from the other daughter in the family, "Jen :( " undoubtedly).

One says, with simple eloquence, "DUMMY."

I have narrowed down its meaning to three possibilities:

1. The previous user of the box made an honest living as a ventriloquist.

2. Or: he was a secret agent. His relocation therefore needed to be a cunning one; to prevent evil doers from hijacking his boxes and stealing his world-important stuff, he had to set up an elaborate kriss-kross double-cross red-kross system whereby some boxes really had things in them, while others were just decoys.

3. The box is mocking me in my hour of stress. Fuck you too, box. Your father is square, and yo' mama gets around so much that she might as well be made of recycled fiber. Oh, SNAP!


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