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The triangular briefcase I had found

Reintegrated on June 13, 1999.

Someone dressed in a white business suit came to my door this week, merely to tell me, “I’ll hear about it.” I, of course, had no idea what he was talking about. Who was he? Who was I? When I asked, he repeated, “I’ll hear about it,” and promptly departed, leaving behind his triangular briefcase. I counted to seven (if you remember, I recently learned how to count), then danced around in seven circles, kicked the briefcase seven times, shouted at my doorknob and doorbell seven times each, then picked up the briefcase and went back into my house.

Emblazoned on the side of the briefcase were the initials PNÅ. This struck me as odd, as those were my initials. The man in the white business suit had the same initials as me, or he had stolen my triangular briefcase and just now brought it back! I decided to investigate. The spiders sang. The stars screamed again. I fell over, and into my toilet as I was searching my closet for the briefcase, my briefcase.

It was mine. The triangular briefcase I had found on my steps was my own. I opened it, and found an adiabatic stack of amphoteric papers. Wow. I tossed the papers, one at a time, into the air, trying to quell the singing of the spiders and screaming of the stars—to no avail.