2026-04-24, 15:36
Alright.
Okay.
Listen up.
I’ve had… several drinks.
Maybe more than several.
Maybe enough to qualify as a small festival.
And I’m sitting here, king of the corner table, ruler of the GenXTribe cloth, champion of the squeaky chair, when I see it.
The Object.
Still there.
Still round.
Still wooden.
Still judging me like it pays rent.
I lean in.
It leans back.
Or maybe that was me.
Hard to tell at this point.
I squint at it like I’m trying to solve a crime.
“What… are you.”
It does not answer.
Rude.
I poke it.
It rolls.
I poke it harder.
It rolls back like it’s talking smack.
That’s it.
That’s the moment.
Night Dummy activates.
I stand up — dramatically, heroically, unsteadily — and declare:
“You don’t scare me, little wooden mystery!”
🍺🔥😎
I grab it.
I hold it up like I’ve just claimed a trophy from a fallen enemy.
The alley cat wanders in.
Perfect timing.
Perfect target.
I wind up with the confidence of a man who has absolutely no idea what he’s doing and absolutely no intention of stopping.
And I toss it.
Not hard.
Not fast.
Just… bravely.
Boldly.
Incorrectly.
It arcs through the air like a confused comet and lands near the cat with a gentle *plonk*.
The cat looks at it.
Then looks at me.
Then walks away like I’ve embarrassed both of us.
I raise my mug in triumph anyway.
“Victory.”
The tender walks by, sees the whole thing, and just sighs the sigh of a man who has accepted his fate.
Night Dummy sits back down.
Chair squeaks.
Beer mat sticks.
Draft hits.
Everything is chaos.
And he loves it.
Okay.
Listen up.
I’ve had… several drinks.
Maybe more than several.
Maybe enough to qualify as a small festival.
And I’m sitting here, king of the corner table, ruler of the GenXTribe cloth, champion of the squeaky chair, when I see it.
The Object.
Still there.
Still round.
Still wooden.
Still judging me like it pays rent.
I lean in.
It leans back.
Or maybe that was me.
Hard to tell at this point.
I squint at it like I’m trying to solve a crime.
“What… are you.”
It does not answer.
Rude.
I poke it.
It rolls.
I poke it harder.
It rolls back like it’s talking smack.
That’s it.
That’s the moment.
Night Dummy activates.
I stand up — dramatically, heroically, unsteadily — and declare:
“You don’t scare me, little wooden mystery!”
🍺🔥😎
I grab it.
I hold it up like I’ve just claimed a trophy from a fallen enemy.
The alley cat wanders in.
Perfect timing.
Perfect target.
I wind up with the confidence of a man who has absolutely no idea what he’s doing and absolutely no intention of stopping.
And I toss it.
Not hard.
Not fast.
Just… bravely.
Boldly.
Incorrectly.
It arcs through the air like a confused comet and lands near the cat with a gentle *plonk*.
The cat looks at it.
Then looks at me.
Then walks away like I’ve embarrassed both of us.
I raise my mug in triumph anyway.
“Victory.”
The tender walks by, sees the whole thing, and just sighs the sigh of a man who has accepted his fate.
Night Dummy sits back down.
Chair squeaks.
Beer mat sticks.
Draft hits.
Everything is chaos.
And he loves it.