Help!

What, me?

Oh, nothing. I’m okay. Nope, nothing’s wrong. DON’T LOOK IN THAT CABINET!

Haha, no, that’s fine, I was kidding.

GET AWAY FROM THE CABINET, I WASN’T KIDDING! I thought it if I said that I were kidding, you’d lose all interest in the cabinet, how was I supposed to know how your criminally insane mind works?!

Okay, I need your help. You’ve let me down before (remember the Amazon wish list incident of ChristmasHannuka 2010? Why don’t they just call it the Amazon List of Shit You’ll Never Get? That way we’d all just put herpes on it and move on with our lives) but I’m willing to give you another chance.

Here’s the story: Mama gave me a beautiful bowl. It’s white and ceramic and you can serve chips, guacamole and salsa in it. It’s very lovely.

Except someone broke into our apartment and stole it. I tried to fight them, of course, but they tied me up and forced me to watch The View.

Fine, it fell. And chipped. And did I mention the part where mama bought it for me?

So I stuffed it back into the cabinet while I figure out what to do.

I have a few choices:

1. Find a safehouse.

2. Program my mind, like Charlie Sheen, to heal the bowl.

3. Buy another bowl like it.

I’m leaning towards 3, because I’m worried that safehouses come with passwords that I’ll need to remember and because I don’t have any of that tiger blood/Adonis DNA that Charlie boasts.

So, please. If you’ve seen this bowl anywhere, let me know. It has some ancient etchings on the bottom, “Mayans c. 1500 B.C.” if that helps. (Translated into English, though, it says: CEARIAT)

Please help.

Because if mama sees that the bowl that she gave me is chipped, it will not end well for anyone.

I need to right this wrong before Cinco de Mayo. Or Fiftho of Marcho.

Gracias.

One year ago ...

• A Tale of Two Tables - 2016