It has come to my attention that you have harbored ill feelings towards me for the last several years. You taunt me as I pass on the street with my friends, Fridge and Stove, whispering and snickering with your Hotplate and Cooler. You have emptied my cupboards at night while I sleep, leaving the mess for me to clean up. And for the longest time I could not understand why. Until today.
I am better than you, Kitchenette. The four little letters at the end of your name tell me so. You are smaller, less useful, and altogether cheaper than me. I bring value to a home, you belong in cheap hotels throughout the midwest. Families spend time with me everyday, they are forced to use you on road trips through Arizona. Scientists spend their every waking minutes making me better, while sociologists questions the necessity of you.
Deal with it, Kitchenette. You are inferior. You have a feminine ending. God created me first, a God named G.E. You are but a gimmick created in my image. Bow before me, Kitchenette, and quit dumping everything out of my cupboards or I will knock over your single barstool.
Firmly stated from on high,
Kitchen
I'd like to see a similar letter between a moist towlette and a moist towel. Keep up the good work!
ReplyDeletemy Kenmore has a bone to pick with you
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