Satire  Published 03/20/17 1:23pm

An Open Letter to Bloomers: Give Me Back My Beloved Sink


Artist's rendering of Head Writer Gena Basha stealing my treasured sink.

Credit: Alessandro Consuelos , Nishant Khurana / flickr

Dear Bloomers,

Please give me back my cherished sink.

Last Monday, I came back to my apartment, after a long day of classes and incessantly checking the radar for the snowstorm that was set to destroy the Northeast, to an utter shock. Upon arrival, it became immediately clear that my precious sink was gone. Not just misplaced, but completely gone, ripped straight from the wall. Although you stole my treasured, gorgeous sink, at least you had the good conscience to leave behind my toothbrush, which I appreciate.

While a disappointing amount of snow came that night, my sink, so dear to my heart, did not return. The first day was manageable. I learned after one accidental use of my bathroom, and the subsequent walking down the hall, hands raised, to use someone else's sink, that it was going to become an issue. By Thursday, I'd had enough. My hopes for clean hands would have been down the drain, if I had a drain.

Thursday night came and I met with the rest of the UTB staff prior to your show. I was jovial on the outside, but all I could think about what used to fill the gaping hole in my bathroom. Where was it? Is it coming back? Who has my darling sink?

We settled into the show and everything seemed normal. I was having a good time and my mind began to drift from the sink. Then, it happened. 

The Bloody Mary sketch.

You set the stage, placing a full, beautiful sink on top of a box. When the lights went up, my first reaction was, "Damn, where'd they get a sink? 1) That's kinda involved for such a minimalist set, and 2) I should ask them where they got such an elegant sink, because I need a new one." My blood ran cold as it sunk in: that sink, so handsome and well-designed, was my own.

As my peers sat around me, laughing obliviously, all I could focus on was my prized sink. I sat stupefied for the rest of the performance, and indeed for many minutes after it had finished. 

Bloomers, I implore you, please give me back my sink. Without it, my life has no meaning... or, at the very least, is slightly less convenient. I didn't reach out earlier because I wanted to let you finish the run of your show (which I loved, but would have loved more if I had a sink to come home to) but now I need my beloved sink back.

I urge you to return that which you so cruelly took from me. You can just drop it off in front of VP, under the Button, no questions asked.


Alessandro Consuelos, Under the Button dot com

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