Twine

I’m holding, in my other hand(*), a box of twine. What strange stuff, twine. It must come from a twine factory. I wonder how many people work there. And what they say at parties when people ask them what they do. "Oh well… I make twine. Yeah, you know how when you get the packet, how one end of the twine ball is sticking out of the hole in the top. I do that. I find the end and stick it out of the hole."

I also notice on the box it says "open flap for instructions." Well, thank God for that. I tell you what, I’d be lost without instructions on how to use my twine. They’d have to open a 24 hour Twine Line, for distressed users of twine. "Oh, you’ve got to help me, I got my twine home, and I just can’t think what I’m going to do with it. I’ve tried everything – cooking with it, programming the VCR with it, even sex. You’ve got to help me, please." But no, there are instructions inside boxes of twine. It probably just says "tie stuff".

(*) the one I’m not typing with.

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