Death of a Sales-Shirt

Latest except from Fairy Farts:

We found a nearby creek, but with all the blood my new shirt had soaked up and subsequently had dried into it, I was forced to admit that it was a lost cause. Rather than clean it, I buried it and suffered the eye rolls and head shakes as I gave my poor shirt a eulogy.

“I feel like we barely knew each other,” which was true since I’d bought the shirt this morning, “but I watched you grow and change… color during our brief friendship. You always had my back and shared in my pain, and, dear shirt, I’ll never forget that. You became part of the very fabric of my life. From the earth you grew, were woven into life, and we now return you to the soil from whence you came. So, it is with deepest regret that I lay you to rest in this grave. The shallow depth in which in no way relates to the depth of gratitude for your many minutes of service.”

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