[#FREECYCLE] Wide Toothed Plastic Comb, Large

Gran’s favorite. She said she got it many years ago, in the Old Country (Manhattan), “when it was still possible to buy bits of non-biodegradable basura for less than eleventy dollars.” Sure, Gran. Here you see it, arranged near common items for scale, and also a couple photos of me and dearly departed Gran, who was Definitely a Real Person (you can see the family resemblance) enjoying the food at our last Thanksgiving meal together, as memorialized by a kind and loving partner, and not at all the kind of dungmonkey who thinks it’s hysterically funny to sit around complaining about all the fuss for a week straight, only to annihilate every single crumb lovingly laid before him. Such a (completely imaginary) jerkface would almost certainly spend some time after his fifth helping of dessert gender-swapping a photo of you he took—allegedly to “celebrate”your (theoretical) hard work, but really (lets pretend, uwu) because you looked like utter crap after 4 solid days of cooking and cleaning literally everything, everywhere, all by yourself. But your brave little smile of exhaustion (I speculate) simply wouldn’t look as good without another forty hard years, clip-on earrings, and 12 to 14 inches of gray hair. So that’s this fictional Nega-Boyfriend’s contribution to the whole thing. Potentially. And if these (completely made-up and not in the slightest) watermarked AI “enhancements” just happened to turn the food you literally (metaphorically!) just spent twelve entire hours preparing—at enormous (purely imaginary ha! Ha ha!) expense by means of (not even slightly real!) blood (it’s ketchup!), sweat (steam!), and tears (it’s sweat!)… If the end result of all that (pretend!) sacrifice were… (Were! If it were real! Which it categorically was not!) …If this fancifully inadequate caricature of a (NOT REAL) partner decided that an appropriate response to all of that would be to make the food look like unidentifiable Dickensian slop splattered atop mounds of charred vegetable scraps? Well. Why should anyone actually real be even slightly annoyed about any of it? …To, ah, to pull a fanciful simile completely from the air at random. Anyway; she’s gone, and so’s the rotten boyfriend—but the comb is still around. Nobody here needs it. It’s not especially fine, but i can attest that it is largely free of acrimony, and has been experimentally licked by one feline or another only a handful of times—which, y’know, bonus. I hope it goes to a good home free of Generation Alpha hijinks. (RIP Gran) *🩷*

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• BrandCantù