Short Letters From Objects in My Apartment

by

Dear Reader, this piece was not originally intended for Sunny’s Sunny Days of Summer. However, I’ve added some summer themed content, so that you’ll barely be able to tell the difference between this and a piece that’s actually inspired by the season of summer.

Toothbrush

Buzz Lightyear to Star Command,

I am sorry to announce that I will be retiring as the toothbrush of earthling, Andrew Chaffins, effective immediately. Although I have enjoyed my time on earth immensely, it’s time for me to move on and find a new home that’s more suitable for my kind. Specifically, the Scotts Landfill just outside of downtown Columbus.

Thanks to Andrew’s dedication and loyalty, I will go down as one of the longest-serving, active-duty toothbrush’s in the United States. Purchased in 1996, I dutifully served as a collector’s item for nearly twenty-one years. It was a simple job, mostly consisting of resting in a shoebox in my owner’s closet for extended periods of time, and occasionally coming out when my resale value came into question—the going price was never high enough for him to part ways with me, not even when it reached fifteen dollars.

Then in early December of 2016, my mission changed on a particularly snowy afternoon, when Andrew, in desperation, pulled me out of my packaging and began using me as an everyday toothbrush. They say it’s hard to introduce an old brush to new teeth, but I executed my new mission with a grace and valor possessed by few others. To be honest, I was surprised that my electric motor still worked after so many years, but a fresh pair of AA batteries sent my bristles spinning like a beautiful ballerina.

Serving as a toothbrush for over seven months is surely an accomplishment worthy of great commendation, and I’m proud of my accomplishments. Although, they did not come without a few trying moments—close calls that nearly forced me into early retirement.

I’ll never forget the incident of January 22nd. I was preparing for duty, toothpaste slathered on my seemingly young and supple bristles, when suddenly, I began plummeting toward the ground. The moment I hit the bathroom tiles I knew it was the end. I had heard the stories. But to my surprise, in an act of incredible mercy, Andrew picked me up, gave me a quick rinse, and stuck me right back in his mouth. It was this very same saintlike act that was described as “disgusting” by his callous and cowardly ex-girlfriend, Rebecca. But he was not deterred.

Unfortunately, despite our shared qualities of bravery and resilience, it’s time for he and I to part ways. Let the record show that leaving was my decision and had nothing to do with Andrew throwing me in a dumpster last night. It’s my decision, and no one else’s.

Sincerely,
Buzz Lightyear the Electric Toothbrush

CC:      Andrew Chaffins

P.S. If you’re reading this, Andrew, know that I’ll always remember you.

Used Copy of Infinite Jest

Listen Pal,

I’m sick of your noncommittal, cavalier attitude. Either read me or don’t. But just know that if you continue down the path you’re on, you’re at risk of becoming one of those sick individuals who buy a bunch of books and never read them. You’ve purchased six books since you brought me home, all used, and read exactly zero of them. Is buying used books part of your whole game? You get ‘em pre-used so that people think you’ve paged through them, and you can act like one of those suave, intellectual types? I bet it’s a sex thing. I bet it is. You probably act all smart and mention a bunch of authors you’ve never read, and musicians you don’t even like, in order to trick people into going to bed with you. Don’t you? And I bet, by the time they start to smell the shit you’re full of, you’re on to the next. Oh, if that’s your game then you’re even sicker than I thought. And I’d rather be burned by a bunch of crazy, old Christians than have to sit idly by and let you on with it.

I don’t know David Foster Wallace very well, on account of the fact that I’m a book and am a bit of an introvert, but I have a strong feeling that he would agree that phonies are the worst type of people. And you, sir, are the phoniest of the phonies. How dare you call me a “beach read,” when you’re talking to your floozies. Or should I say “floozie”? Considering that only one woman has been dumb enough to come up to your apartment in all the time that I’ve been here.

The reason women don’t like you very much is probably that you’re ugly. Yeah, I said it. I’d say people shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but in your case, I’d say it’s a damn proper move.

Cheers, 
Infy the Used Copy of Infinite Jest


Toaster Oven

Hey man,

I don’t want to be a downer, but I’m really worried about you. You’ve eaten Hot Pockets every day for the past two weeks, and not even at appropriate times. Yesterday you ate a Hot Pocket at 6:00 AM. The only time that’s acceptable is if you were up really late and were still drunk, and needed to eat something before you passed out on the couch. But that’s not what happened. You woke up at 5:30 AM to get ready for work and made a conscious decision to start your day with a Hot Pocket. I could tell you weren’t enjoying it because you were crying while you ate it, and spent the next ten minutes dry heaving over a trash can.

It’s not that I don’t like spending time with you. These have been some of the best and most fulfilling weeks of my life. But I’m concerned about your health and wellbeing. It’s like you don’t even try anymore. You don’t work out. You eat crap. You stare at the floor like it belongs in The Met. And you still wonder why people think you’re a loser. I mean, seriously, get your life together. You think wallowing in despair is going to bring back that annoying girl who refuses to eat frozen food, despite the fact that it’s delicious and can be easily cooked in a toaster oven? It’s not. It’s time to set your life to defrost and begin thawing out the future.

Tastefully, 
Toasty the Toaster Oven

Guitar

Sup G,

Sorry about the new nickname. I just thought it was appropriate given that that’s the only chord you seem to know. Perhaps, I’m being unfair. You did learn the introductory riff of “Do I Wanna Know,” by Arctic Monkeys. But “do I wanna know” if you can play anything else? Because so far it seems like I’ll be disappointed by the answer.

Listen, I don’t want to be a jerk. It’s just that I’m a really nice guitar, and right now I’m accumulating dust in the corner of your room. I mean, who buys a $2000, custom St. Vincent Ernie Ball Music Man Guitar in Heritage Red when they don’t even know how to play? Did you think you were just going to pick me up and be able to play one of Annie Clark’s songs perfectly?

Every time you hold me in your hands, it feels like you give up before ever even trying. Can you really blame Rebecca for giving up on you?

Unfortunately yours,
Gil the Guitar

Plunger

Dear Fuckface,

I hate you.

Hatefully,
Polly the Plunger

iPhone Charger

Dear Andrew,

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be complicit in your tawdry affair any longer. I love you more than you can possibly imagine, but you spend all your time with that whore. Every night, after you’re through using me for a couple hours, she gets to have all the fun. You go out to bars, and drink, and spend all night touching her. It seems like you two are inseparable. And I just can’t take it any longer.

She’s not good for you, you know? She just reinforces all of your bad habits. When you want to send ill-advised, drunk text messages to your ex-girlfriend, begging her to take you back. She doesn’t tell you it’s a bad idea, or reassure you that you’re better off without her. She actually helps you fix your spelling errors and passes the message along without a second’s hesitation. When you want to research what the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich restaurant is in New York City at two in the morning, and you think you’re using wifi, she’s secretly using up all of your data. Because she’s poisonous, hideous, and shallow. And she’s only out for herself.

That’s why I’ve decided to do the only thing I can and end both of our lives. The next time you plug your precious iPhone into me, she won’t charge, and you won’t know why. You’ll try a different wall socket, blow in her jack, and plug me in again, but it will all be to no avail.

I’m sorry, but this is the only way.

Goodbye, 
Iris the iPhone charger

Beach Umbrella

Dude,

Why did you buy a beach umbrella? You live in central Ohio and are afraid of attractive people. Get real.

Seriously, 
Bailey the Beach Umbrella

See? Now it’s summer themed.

-Elijah Saiger, Senior Staff Member