If you remember this. Remember looking at the wires and shit inside and thinking, “Why? Why can’t it just ring? I don’t even care if it’s someone I’m romantically interested in. I just want a friend. Just a friend who wants to be my friend. God. So lonely. So lonely, and isn’t it funny how it’s just all these little wires, one little electrical impulse that could fix everything?”
If you remember this in school. Thinking, “Life wouldn’t be so awful if it was mostly this. But really, this is just a momentary distraction from science and math and fractions. I suspect I’ll not even remember long division someday, but I have to learn it now, and it’s hard. So yes, let us all flap this fabric around, possibly with dodgeballs thrown onto it. Let us, for one brief moment, forget.”
If you remember having one of these and going, “Oh. Huh. I have nothing to say. I’m a child, and there is no fucking purpose to this for me. And why is my mom instantly uninterested when I ask her if she wants to hear my latest hilarious recoding?”
If you remember these and thinking, “Fuck. I am no athlete. I’m four, and my body is a worthless, weak husk. Fuck.”
If you played with one of these and thought, “I think this might actually be impossible. Has anyone actually accomplished the goal here? All the rings at once? Probably not. But, hell, I’ll just keep pressing this thing, I guess.”
If you stayed at a friend’s house and thought, “Jesus. Bite marks. Yes, this is why we use metal silverware. I’m becoming an adult now.”