Storage Funny Quotes

And it's funny because it was my grandpa who painted it shut (window) in the first place, and he had a whole storage shed full of just about every tool you could imagine. He was one of those guys who thought he could fix anything, but it never worked out quite as well as he planned. He was more of a visionary than a nuts -and bolts kind of guy.

The next morning I told Mom I couldn't go to school again. She asked what was wrong. I told her, “The same thing that’s always wrong.” “You’re sick?” “I'm sad.” “About Dad?” “About everything.” She sat down on the bed next to me, even though I knew she was in a hurry. “What's everything?” I started counting on my fingers: “The meat and dairy products in our refrigerator, fistfights, car accidents, Larry–” “Who's Larry?” “The homeless guy in front of the Museum of Natural History who always says ‘I promise it’s for food’ after he asks for money.” She turned around and I zipped her dress while I kept counting. “How you don’t know who Larry is, even though you probably see him all the time, how Buckminster just sleeps and eats and goes to the bathroom and has no ‘raison d’etre’, the short ugly guy with no neck who takes tickets at the IMAX theater, how the sun is going to explode one day, how every birthday I always get at least one thing I already have, poor people who get fat because they eat junk food because it’s cheaper…” That was when I ran out of fingers, but my list was just getting started, and I wanted it to be long, because I knew she wouldn't leave while I was still going. “…domesticated animals, how I have a domesticated animal, nightmares, Microsoft Windows, old people who sit around all day because no one remembers to spend time with them and they’re embarrassed to ask people to spend time with them, secrets, dial phones, how Chinese waitresses smile even when there’s nothing funny or happy, and also how Chinese people own Mexican restaurants but Mexican people never own Chinese restaurants, mirrors, tape decks, my unpopularity in school, Grandma’s coupons, storage facilities, people who don’t know what the Internet is, bad handwriting, beautiful songs, how there won’t be humans in fifty years–” “Who said there won't be humans in fifty years?” I asked her, “Are you an optimist or a pessimist?” She looked at her watch and said, “I'm optimistic.” “Then I have some bed news for you, because humans are going to destroy each other as soon as it becomes easy enough to, which will be very soon.” “Why do beautiful songs make you sad?” “Because they aren't true.” “Never?” “Nothing is beautiful and true.

I suspect he put the table in storage, along with the one nightstand he insisted was rightfully his and all of our cookbooks. I don’t miss the cookbooks. I don’t cook.

We ate all of this in front of Tack’s huge, flat-screen TV in the living room where I was treated to a marathon of Storage Wars. Seeing as I didn’t watch TV, I’d never heard of this program. But by the second episode I was hooked. I declared that I thought Brandi and Jarrod were “adorable” together, which for some reason he didn’t explain made Rush laugh so hard I thought he would bust a gut. Rush might find that funny but I decided I was going to start dressing like Brandi. She always looked the shit. I also shared that Dave was my favorite “character” to which Tabby told me with grave seriousness, “But, Tyra, he’s the bad guy.

The next morning I told Mom I couldn’t go to school again. She asked what was wrong. I told her, “The same thing that’s always wrong.” “You’re sick?” “I’m sad.” “About Dad?” “About everything.” She sat down on the bed next to me, even though I knew she was in a hurry. “What’s everything?” I started counting on my fingers: “The meat and dairy products in our refrigerator, fistfights, car accidents, Larry—” “Who’s Larry?” “The homeless guy in front of the Museum of Natural History who always says ‘I promise it’s for food’ after he asks for money.” She turned around and I zipped her dress while I kept counting. “How you don’t know who Larry is, even though you probably see him all the time, how Buckminster just sleeps and eats and goes to the bathroom and has no raison d’être, the short ugly guy with no neck who takes tickets at the IMAX theater, how the sun is going to explode one day, how every birthday I always get at least one thing I already have, poor people who get fat because they eat junk food because it’s cheaper . . . ” That was when I ran out of fingers, but my list was just getting started, and I wanted it to be long, because I knew she wouldn’t leave while I was still going. “ . . . domesticated animals, how I have a domesticated animal, nightmares, Microsoft Windows, old people who sit around all day because no one remembers to spend time with them and they’re embarrassed to ask people to spend time with them, secrets, dial phones, how Chinese waitresses smile even when there’s nothing funny or happy, and also how Chinese people own Mexican restaurants but Mexican people never own Chinese restaurants, mirrors, tape decks, my unpopularity at school, Grandma’s coupons, storage facilities, people who don’t know what the Internet is, bad handwriting, beautiful songs, how there won’t be humans in fifty years—

Boxwood, a man of indeterminate age with a scraggly mass of brown hair and a paper-thin mustache, had been hired on part-time, and it was he who oversaw the boys in their outdoor chores. Marvin was handed an axe and followed a few of the other boys to an adjacent area where several tree stumps had been strategically placed, along with a bounty of uncut wood. Marvin got to work. He hacked at a portion of a downed tree, and once he had a manageable piece, he heaved it into his arms and dropped it onto one of the stumps. He hoisted the heavy axe over his shoulder and, with as much force as he could muster, brought it down upon the chunky piece of trunk. The wood split in two, a few shards spraying outward and falling to the ground. Marvin repositioned one half of the newly cut trunk, heaved the axe over his shoulder, and brought it down forcefully on the wood. It split again. By the time Mr. Boxwood announced that the boys were through for the evening, Marvin was sweating profusely, and his arms ached. He returned the axe to the storage shed and walked toward the main entrance of the orphanage along with the other boys who had been required to split wood. The grounds were otherwise unoccupied, the other children having already headed to their dormitories to retire for the evening. Marvin was walking toward the stairwell when he passed a bathroom and spotted movement through the open door. When he instinctively turned his head to look within, he saw Eva on all fours, scrubbing the floor with a small-handled brush, a metal bucket of sudsy water at her side. Marvin searched the hallway and, not spotting any authority figures, whispered, “Eva. Hey, Eva.” When she looked up at the sound of his voice, Marvin noticed her eyes were tinged with red. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like I’m doing?” She seemed about to cry, but her jaw was clenched in anger. “Why do you have to do it?” Eva sat back on her heels, rested the brush on her lap, and ran her free hand up into her hair, where she angrily grasped the large bow. “This damn thing!” she exclaimed, and Marvin’s eyes widened at the curse. “I didn’t want to wear it. It’s babyish. My parents never made me wear something like this. Not at my age, anyway. Maybe when I was a baby and I didn’t know any better or didn’t care, but not now. And Sister What’s Her Name said I had to wear one because it made me look presentable—that was her word: presentable. Because apparently, I don’t look presentable without a big ol’ stupid, ugly, white baby bow in my hair. I got so mad, I yanked it out and threw it on the ground, but then she looked at me. Just looked at me. She didn’t say anything, just stared. And then my heart got all jumpy because nobody had ever looked at me that way before.” Eva wiped a tear from under her eye. “She picked it up, so slow I didn’t know if she had trouble with her legs or something, right? She picked it up, and then she held it in her hand and looked down at it, and then… then… Marvin, she slapped me so hard on the cheek, I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe it. Nobody’s ever slapped me before!” Another tear dribbled from Eva’s eye, and Marvin was compelled forward. His knees hit the cold, hard floor, and he reached

Beta?” she asked, turning to rummage through one of the storage containers. “Do you know where I put the welder?” “Miss Alys, I don’t think we’re alone anymore.” “Very funny. Did Dad send someone to find me, after all?” She yanked out what felt like a welder, but ended up being the broken end of a screwdriver. “Damn it.” “Alys!” Beta’s voice was a little harsher this time. “Turn around.” Sighing, she had a whole rant on the tip of her tongue to scold the droid for trying to scare her, but then all the words disappeared the moment the droid turned on the lights outside of the pod. A man floated outside of her sub. No, not a man. Something else entirely. His long, dark hair hovered around his head, graceful and delicate in comparison to the hard swath of muscles that tapered down from his broad shoulders to a very narrow waist. But that was all that looked human. She could see the delicate webs between his fingers that ended in deadly black claws. The gills that fluttered on the side of his neck and the bright green scales that created a tiger stripe pattern all down his body. It was... What was he?

I don't want your hanging meat parasailing toward me. Please, double bubble-wrap it, and put it in storage already.