$30.00
"The Tub, the Cop, and the Lathe-Cut Alibi"**
*Featuring SPYKES “June 26 2023” one-sided picture lathe 7” and one very suspicious bath appliance*
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It started at **4:47 a.m.** when Officer Ramblin Jack caught a **clawfoot tub** loitering behind the abandoned petting zoo on Sprain Street.
The tub was just sitting there—full of **lukewarm possum broth**, spinning a warped **SPYKES “June 26 2023”** lathe 7” on a battery-powered turntable propped across its rim. The picture disc featured a hand-drawn centipede shrugging and what appeared to be a duck screaming into a shoe.
“Evenin’,” said the tub.
Officer Jack squinted.
“You got a license to soak here?”
“I’m a free tub,” it replied. “Constitutional right to bathe anywhere I please. It's in the deep plumbing clauses. Amendment 14½.”
“Not in my town,” muttered the officer, writing a citation labeled:
**‘Suspicious Soaking / Improper Grooving / Possum-Based Loitering’**.
As Jack attempted to cuff the faucet handles, the record suddenly skipped backwards and began **emitting insect-based facts** in a soothing monotone.
> “Millipedes do not bite.
> Their mouths are structured like gentle files.
> They abrade. They exfoliate.
> However, their secretions may cause mild numbness and existential déjà vu.”
The tub blinked (yes, it had eyes now).
“See? Nothing illegal. I’m just exfoliating emotionally.”
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At the station, things escalated.
The SPYKES lathe started **melting into a puddle of sonic syrup**, replaying distant memories of summer garages and tangled cords. The tub demanded one phone call, which it placed to a **Florida ivory millipede lawyer** named Sheldon.
Sheldon, who had once chewed his way out of a Ziploc bag, arrived by riding inside a Bluetooth speaker. He wore a very small tie.
“My client,” Sheldon hissed, “has done nothing but relax in a broth-based ambiance. The recording clearly states it: abrasion, not aggression. At worst, he caused mild tingling. Are tingles a crime now?”
Officer Jack, who had accidentally stepped in the broth, noticed his foot was now **unusually smooth and smelled faintly of decaying leaves.**
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The court dismissed the case due to lack of actual criminal statute involving emotionally exfoliating tubs.
The tub was released with a warning:
“Keep your broth inside city-designated basins.”
As the sun rose, the tub rolled away slowly down the cracked road, SPYKES playing one final note that sounded exactly like a centipede high-fiving a ghost.
A voice from nowhere whispered:
> “Don’t lick the tub.
> Don’t crush the millipede.
> Let the grooves do the talking.”
Millipedes don’t bite.
Tubs don’t lie.
And if you hear strange sounds in the early hours, it’s probably just **SPYKES and the law of absurd soakage** at work.
Edition of 1.