A second, smaller safe.
A third, bigger safe.
A Motorola Razr with last voice mail ex-girlfriend Cindy left. Haven’t been able to bring myself to listen, but assume she says she loves me, I’m a great guy, and we can get back together anytime.
Twelve hundred dollars in savings bonds my grandmother gave me for my twelfth birthday, due to mature in 2035. Excited to cash out. Will probably use money to buy a robot.
A DVR containing Season 5 of “The Amazing Race.” No spoilers! Would still like to watch this one. I wonder if my robot will come with a name. If I get to choose, I think I’ll name him Jeff.
A barely tampered-with tin of tangerine-flavored Altoids Sours sucking candies. So good. For some reason, Cindy, generally savvy, got pretty worked up when she discovered that I cashed out savings bonds early to buy Altoids on eBay.
“You always do this,” she said.
“What?” I asked. “Cash out my savings bonds to buy discontinued candies on eBay?”
“Yes,” she said, not crying, but not smiling, either. I offered her one of the candies but that didn’t help.
A box of original Club Crackers. After Kellogg’s sold Keebler, they abandoned the recipe, causing the crackers to lose the rich, buttery taste that made them a delicacy.
“Isn’t that insane?” I said to Cindy. “Isn’t that crazy?”
“Yes,” Cindy replied.
“And nobody’s talking about it,” I said, often. “Nobody even cares!”
“You’ve got that right,” she said.
I paid four hundred dollars for the crackers on eBay. A steal at twice the price. I wonder whether Jeff will only be capable of household functions, or whether he will be capable of companionship. It would be nice to have somebody to watch “The Amazing Race” with.
A warning placard reading “Do NOT Enter Third, Bigger Safe” very unfortunately placed inside the third, bigger safe.
Me, sort of—I got turned around working on the third, bigger safe and ended up trapped inside. Or more like in between. Quantum stuff.
“Let me out of here! Hey! I’m stuck in the nowhere zone!” is something I say a lot.
All of my unmatched socks. Turns out this is where they end up! The multiversal gnomes love them.
“Get back, multiversal gnome!” is another thing I say a lot, poking and jabbing and generally making holy signs with fingers. I wonder if Jeff will have gizmos, gadgets, sprays for reducing humping behavior in multiversal gnomes.
A barely tampered-with bag of peanut M&M’s. They probably will never be discontinued, but, if they are, I’ll be the one selling.
“See, Cindy,” I’ll say. “That’s yield. That’s leverage. That’s arbitrage.”
And she will probably say something like, “You don’t know what those words mean.” And she will be right.
Various pieces of correspondence detailing plans to unjustly delegitimatize and overthrow the recently elected leader of the multiversal gnomes. I don’t feel great about participating in this, but I had to get the F.B.I.’s attention somehow. I really do need them to come and get me. Can’t remember how long I’ve been in here, but Cindy must be wondering where I am. Likely leaving more voice mails professing respect and admiration for me. My in-box may even be full by now. And Jeff, too! Sweet Jeff, loyal Jeff, whom I love like a real boy, who would never violate his prime directive by impeding the windbreaker brigade in their execution of a search of my nested safes. Need to get out and tell him I never should have chosen his name. Choose your own name, Jeff. Or Emilio, or Geoff. You’ve earned it.
You hear that, you pigs? You lousy gumshoes? I’m in here. So come and get me. I heard they discontinued Choco Tacos. ♦
