I got you Saturday at Walgreens here in Covington. I didn’t really want to get a lighter that says on it “flick my Bic,” but you were right there and only cost a couple bucks, so what the hell.
I know that you and other Bics run out of fluid sooner or later, but I thought we would have a fairly long relationship. The reality is after only owning you maybe for half an hour, you were taken from me. Someone else is flicking you.
A neighbor knocked on my door shortly after our relationship started. She said she needed a lighter to light the burner on her stove. She said she would bring you right back. That was Saturday. This is Monday. It’s apparent she has taken you from me.
Her name is Pam. Yes, it’s the same Pam I wrote about yesterday, the one with the sensitive nose. Maybe you don’t care about any of this because you’re just a lighter that doesn’t have a brain or can see, but I’m telling you anyway.
I doubt if you can talk—have yet to meet a lighter that can—but if you do, please tell Pam she has burned her bridges with me. Next time she needs a cigarette, I won’t have one. Next time she runs out of coffee, she can go to the store. Next time she knocks on my door wanting a roll of toilet paper—yes, Bic, she has done this—I will tell her to wipe her rear end with a brick.
Should she talk to you feeling all dismayed about my meanness, tell her she should have rethought her steps before pissing me off over a two dollar lighter. No offense, Bic.
And you can do what you want, but if she’s flicking you a lot, I think it would be OK to flick her sometimes too. If you flick her in the wrong places, that’s your business.
Have a great life.
I think Pam has a computer. I hope she’ll be nice enough to read this to Bic as he can’t see.
(Photo of Pam holding my former lighter found at xlostfaith.deviantart.com)