The year is 1950. A veteran of World War II has come home, married his best girl, gone on a whirlwind honeymoon to exotic, far off Daytona Beach, then like many people in this time, picked a location and built a house. Then he’s recalled to service to go fight in a place called Korea, and never returns. His widow never remarries. Most of a century later, the next owners of the house wonder why there’s so few razor blades in the wall.
“Ah, it’s only been a couple months. This blade is still good. Ouch! Ooohhh… That’s a bad cut. Oh well. Just need a wad of toilet paper to power through it.”
Because they owned the house for who knows how many decades and only used 9 razor blades?
If it was a vinyl, it would still count as a mint condition.
The year is 1950. A veteran of World War II has come home, married his best girl, gone on a whirlwind honeymoon to exotic, far off Daytona Beach, then like many people in this time, picked a location and built a house. Then he’s recalled to service to go fight in a place called Korea, and never returns. His widow never remarries. Most of a century later, the next owners of the house wonder why there’s so few razor blades in the wall.
“Ah, it’s only been a couple months. This blade is still good. Ouch! Ooohhh… That’s a bad cut. Oh well. Just need a wad of toilet paper to power through it.”