In the last post (Filmmaker Clams) I introduced you to my sentient and very sensitive tripod — the Jane Doe Tripod. You may recall that Tripod had a voice and could, despite not having digits, send emails. I hadn’t heard from Tripod in a long time, but soon after the post went live, I received a mysterious email. In the subject field, “Dispatch from an Old Friend”
blog about me and don’t even bother to use my real name. while i sit, festering in this dark closet, zipped up in that cheapo nylon case that came along with me. i know. you think of it as a kind of nifty sleeping bag. me? i tell you now: it’s little more than a soft sarcophagus.
and the wifi sucks in here.
yours, (as luck would have it)
the mira doe tripod,
(or whatever the hell my name is now)
I’m not one to take this kind of thing lying down, so I hastily, perhaps too hastily, responded to Tripod’s email.
You ungrateful bastard! Why, I took you out in August to an ice cream shop in Brooklyn. Yes, we worked, but it was a for a good cause — to bring attention to an initiative the owners had undertaken in Rwanda. But it was cool in that shop, wasn’t it, on an otherwise sweltering summer day? And the music was wonderful and the ice cream slinger had the most beautiful blue eyes in the world. We took a break, or don’t you recall? We had organic ice cream and coffee. And how did you repay me that day? When I was folding you up you pinched my thumbnail, giving me an undernail blood blister that is just now healed.
See if I take you out ever again! Punk!
The man who rescued you from oblivion.
Feeling a little guilty, I sheepishly sent Tripod another email.
Would you mind if I use your angry email on the blog? Unfortunately, I can’t pay you, but I can take you out of the closet once in a while.
The man who bought you. Cheap.
Perhaps I should have reconsidered the tone of my emails, perhaps I should have paused before I clicked “Send.” But what can I say, I was upset. Tripod responded.
when was the last time you saw a tripod eat goddamned ice cream? oh yes, we loved it didn’t we!?!
Clearly, Tripod has a problem letting go. I decided to take the high road.
Oh, Tripod, really, it’s time to move on. Your wrath makes you so unattractive.
Thanks, though, for letting me put your vitriol on the blog. Look for it Tuesday.