I used to live in a Tupperware box. It was pretty old and coated with various layers of dried cheese. Over time, it had warped a bit. I never could get a good seal. My seal was named Clyde and he was utterly useless. He'd flood the box and claim that the cat had ripped open the waterbed. I didn't even have a waterbed or a cat. The cat I didn't have didn't even have a waterbed. Clyde wouldn't keep a job. Whenever I'd ask him about paying his share of the rent, he'd pretend that he couldn't speak English. He couldn't play a horn, balance on a ball, and the only trick he knew was, "pull my flipper."
I didn't know what to do with him. I finally found a place called The Baby Seal Club that sounded okay, so I packed him up and sent him on his way. I moved out of the box a few months later. It just didn't feel like home anymore. Also, I was starting to grow a penicillin beard.
I never heard from Clyde again. I found out that he didn't stay at the club very long. Apparently, there was an outing to SeaWorld and there was some kind of incident during Shamu's show. No one saw where Clyde went. The SeaWorld folks didn't have a comment. They did offer me a Shamu lunchbox, but I told them I didn't think there was enough room in there for both Shamu and I.
What were we talking about?