We know that all mugs are not treated equal: Some barely see the light of the kitchen, while others, like BEST DAD IN THE WORLD, barely see the dark. Besides the fact that the whole best dad in the world idea is kind of destroyed by their mass production (how many #1 prizes can you give out before mug currency is devalued?) it isn’t to say that these mugs don’t have struggles, frustrations, obstacles, wanting to be on a better table, in a better apartment- dealing with depression, after an accident leaves one of their cousins in pieces, on the floor. It’s just that, well, compared to the lesser mugs, they’re on easy mode: The hurdles are, like, handle-height. Starting out as the CANCUN ’06, for example, means obstacles at rim height, a bit tougher to handle when you’re put in the bottom drawer, without water, to gain dust in the dark, hard to breathe without access to soap, all because this omniscient god who picked you didn’t really like your style, and is punishing you – as if that natural style was your choice, or that it means anything. BEST DAD IN THE WORLD brings smiles on the daily.
One day, you are brought to the light. Crust from weeks in the dark (dead flies) are washed away, along with rotting green tea, and you are blamed for being thirsty. If you could respond, you would say something, but you are not quite sure what.
Later that week, one of the gods gets drunk and kills your brother. You are blamed for not being ecstatic the next time that he takes you from the shelf. You try to shine, and try to say, I really like you, I’m just as good as BEST DAD IN THE WORLD.
They start to pick you more often, for guests. You get moved to BEST DAD IN THE WORLD’s shelf. BEST DAD IN THE WORLD is not openly angry, or glad, to see you. You notice that the back side of BEST DAD IN THE WORLD is this bright stencil of a cat in suspenders. Well.
You are now cleaned every, single, day, with many guests arriving in the spring. You hear BEST DAD IN THE WORLD whisper to COFFEE IS BETTER THAN SEX that you are naturally dirty, ain’t no soap can take off those tea stains. Well then… who needs BEST DAD IN THE WORLD, anyway? Mug currency, remember- he’s delusional. You don’t need COFFEE IS BETTER THAN SEX, either- everybody on the block knows they’re about to fill your old place, anyway- well, nowhere near where your brother ended up, though, and a shelf above yours, but still.
Sometimes, you notice your brother’s arm, forgotten under the table, gathering dust.
BEST DAD IN THE WORLD does not hate you, they’re just unused to seeing your style on his shelf.
Guests, drunk with summer, ask for you- by request. You’ve become a conversation piece of sorts, something different that is fun to talk about, like someone’s exotic dog, Mr. Bam Bam.
One day, you notice that your brother’s arm has been swept away.
COFFEE IS BETTER THAN SEX, as predicted, is removed.
BEST DAD IN THE WORLD says, it’s alright- you’re only one shelf away: We’ll talk.
You say, hey, at least you aren’t going to the bottom shelf, I’m from there and my eyesight has still not adjusted, haha.
COFFEE IS BETTER THAN SEX does not respond.
One of the gods makes a comment about how you represent the hipster style, classic, exactly because you are unlike BEST DAD IN THE WORLD. Neither you nor BEST DAD IN THE WORLD understand the term ‘hipster,’ but you both get the sense that it is a compliment. Cups in the lower drawer to rattle with excitement. BEST DAD IN THE WORLD has a rare moment of vulnerable silence.
I never told you, you say, but I think you are great.
You know, responds BEST DAD IN THE WORLD, it wasn’t easy for me, either, to get up here.
One day, the god who killed your brother opens the cabinet. You have come to forgive him, blaming his anger on the nature of the kitchen, and not some vicious vendetta against your brother- rest in peace. His shirt has this bright stencil of a cat in suspenders.
word by Liam Lachance
colour by xomatok