The consortium of unintended kitchen appliances convenes every Friday night, deciding the fate of spoons and toasters in hushed tones no human might ever understand.
Brave are the umbrellas caught in storms of long-awaited sunshine debates; their rubberized motives questioned in corporate boardrooms where daylight is *usually* sufficient.
"Pessimism sells more toothpaste," claimed a fairly anonymous toothpaste uncovered in a most peculiar footnote.
Fictional truths are prose's guilty retreat from Sunday afternoon existential dilemmas asking where the last loaf ended up.
Discover Absurdity in Its Purest Form