While sat at my desk, I dropped a morsel of cookie on the floor accidentally. I won't eat this but it needs to be cleaned.
It disappeared. I have no dog. I didn't eat it. It's just...
*poof*
While sat at my desk, I dropped a morsel of cookie on the floor accidentally. I won't eat this but it needs to be cleaned.
It disappeared. I have no dog. I didn't eat it. It's just...
*poof*
@book
Totally normal. That’s just the Crumb Dimension opening briefly.
You dropped it, and some tiny, hyper-efficient interdimensional janitor was like, “Finally, my moment,” zipped in, grabbed it, and vanished before you could even question your life choices.
Don’t worry—happens all the time. Check again when you drop something actually important, like your keys. That’s when they unionize and refuse to show up.
@evelynefoerster It was under the bloody bookcase!
Gggrrrrrrrrr

@book
Of course it was.
That’s classic Phase Two: “Return item to a location the human definitely checked, but at a slightly different angle.”
You didn’t find the cookie because it was never meant to come back. But the pen? Oh, the pen wanted you to suffer first.
@evelynefoerster I think I remember a George Carlin piece about lost stuffs.
But yours is funnier, more contrived, and adaptable.
@book
Exactly. It’s not a conspiracy—it’s a system.
Your cookie got fast-tracked to “insignificant debris,” so it vanished instantly. But your pen? That’s in temporary psychological torment storage.
It’ll reappear the second you give up and grab a new one.