Dear Napkin,

How dare he blame me for his imbecility. I didn’t drop myself. I didn’t ignore myself. I didn’t refuse to bend over and pick myself up because of some stupid post-breakup oath to never do anything resembling yoga again. He acts as if I want to be stepped on, as if I am evil.

I was made with instructions to become part of the heroic Millennium Falcon, not to become some foot assailant. Marbles, jacks, dice, poop—what I’ve done to be associated with such villains, to have my life become a Shakespearean tragedy, I’ll never know. I was made to bring joy to this world. Now I’m on the floor where I can only bring pain.

Damn my fortune,
Red LEGO Brick


I fear I am living long enough to see myself become the villain.


Dear Napkin,

It appears I am the reverse Drake: started from the top with a $1,000 price tag attached to my box, now I’m here next to a loose Chiquita banana sticker and seven yellowing toenail clippings. I do not fear the situation; I fear becoming accustomed to it.

I’m dating Chiquita and I’ve begun to enjoy hearing him howl after stepping on me. I never took joy in revenge before.

I fear I am living long enough to see myself become the villain.

My story mimics those of Julius Caesar, Milton’s Satan, and comedian Sinbad in all the worst ways. Now I’d even count being thrown into a pile of Mega Bloks a blessing. Any fate, even a cursed Mega Bloks fate, is better than being on this floor and becoming something I know I’m not.

Barely hanging on,
Red LEGO Brick


Dear Napkin,

Three months I’ve been here and the fucker hasn’t come close to picking me up.

Instead, he has the audacity to bring his niece and nephew over and make them watch The LEGO Movie. Do you know how maddening it is to watch kids watch LEGOs have fun when they could be having fun with actual LEGOs? It's like watching The Lion King when Hamlet is on a shelf just a few feet away.

It’s an absolute felony that I’m still on this fucking floor.

I’m done playing nice. Since The LEGO Movie screening, I’ve been building an army of foot assassins: little green army men, plastic Barbie doll heads, and three iron-hard kitty turds from the litter box. With me as their commander, the enemy will experience such intense foot pain he’ll have no choice but to die from the immense shock, or at least fall from it.

Harsh? Perhaps, but remember it is he who wanted a villain, he who blamed his pain on my presence as opposed to his lack of peripheral vision. I am simply giving him what he wants.

Muahahahaha,
Red LEGO Brick


Dear Napkin,

Our mission may have been too successful.

He took such a heavy step onto us we ended up being lodged into his foot. His doctor managed to remove all of my army of foot assassins, all except one: me.

Like Batman and the Joker, his foot and I have no choice but to coexist. With every step I make him hurt physically and he makes me hurt emotionally—every step takes me farther from being part of the Falcon, farther from being part of a pile of Mega Bloks, farther from any and all building apparatuses.

Unless he contracts gout and has to have the foot amputated, I’m stuck down here by his heel. Thank you for keeping me company, Piece Of 0.7 Lead and Dirty Bit Of Napkin, but I won’t force you to suffer through any more of this hell with me.

This will be my last entry. May the Force be with you and the foot as far away as possible.

Your friend forever,
Red LEGO Brick

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