(Friend in a Can) Making friends is supposed to be easy. Go outside. Join clubs. Smile more. Talk to strangers. Yeah... That sounds like a lot of bullshit. One afternoon you're wandering through the grocery store looking for frozen pizza when you notice a dusty aluminum can shoved behind the soup. The label simply says: **FRIEND.** No ingredients. No nutrition facts. No warning labels. Just three simple instructions: **Shake well.** **Open carefully.** **Don't make eye contact during activation.** Naturally, you buy two. The second you crack the tab... **HEY, BUDDY!** A fully grown friend unfolds out of the can like an inflatable lawn decoration. He's immediately excited to see you. He compliments your shirt. Laughs at jokes you haven't even told yet. Helps carry groceries. Tells you frozen burritos are gourmet cuisine. Need help moving a couch? Friend in a Can. Need somebody to tell you buying a twelve-foot Halloween skeleton was a damn good investment? Friend in a Can. Need emotional support while your printer is being a complete asshole? Friend in a Can. The only problem... Nobody mentioned they reproduce. Six weeks later there's fourteen of them. One is alphabetizing your spice rack. Another is pressure-washing the neighbor's driveway. Three more have formed a garage band that somehow only plays one song. One keeps asking if you're proud of him. Honestly... He's doing his best. The living room is full. The refrigerator is empty. Someone painted your mailbox neon purple. And every single one of them keeps yelling, "WE'RE HAVING A GREAT FUCKING TIME!" If things ever get out of hand... Look for the can labeled... (Friend Remover) It's always sold the fuck out.
