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I had a dream last night that I broke the tines off of forks one by one, bending the metal until it became brittle and snapped.

I did this with a lot of precision and care because it had to be done just right. I'd use the resulting utensils to eat kiwis.

Every day I went through the same process of breaking my forks before using them until I noticed a decline in the number of forks in the drawer. It worried me so I brought it up with my mom. It was then that I learned that she had been finding my broken forks and throwing them out.

"Mom, you're being counterproductive here," I said. She rolled up a newspaper and whacked me with it.