Baby, Come Back!

My apologies, dearest children. (Don't argue that you're older than me; we are all kids.) I misplaced the Foam Cabinet. I was meaning to post as soon as I found the Foam Cabinet, but the Foam Cabinet has yet to show. I think the Foam Cabinet is getting tired of things relating to me.


I think the Foam Cabinet is fed up with:

-The scent of vanilla on my skin. (Perhaps the Foam Cabinet has vanilla allergies.)


-My ever growing fiery red hair. (Perhaps the Foam Cabinet no longer recognizes me!)


-An abundance of disturbing images on my skin. (Perhaps the Foam Cabinet thinks I'm a maniac who will grow up to become a serial killer.)


-The friends I keep company with. (Perhaps the Foam Cabinet misses SoccerBoy#13, Tweety Bird, the WRHS posse, and all Georgians big and small. After all, the carbon-based life forms here are quite the wackos.)


-Being used. (Perhaps the Foam Cabinet doesn't appreciate being opened and talked about all the time.)


That all being said, I think I'll make it clear that if the Foam Cabinet does not return in due time, I will construct a contraption with hubcaps, rope, windshield wipers, and railroad spikes, among other various object found in Washington State.

(That was a threat, Foam Cabinet...)