Assembly Required (Brain Not Included)
Brenda stared blankly at the instruction manual, a single bead of sweat tracing a perilous path down her temple. “I swear, Agatha, these instructions are written in ancient Martian hieroglyphs.”
Agatha, perched regally on a stack of unopened boxes, didn't even bother looking up from her perfectly manicured nails. “Oh, really? And here I thought ‘Insert dowel (A) into hole (B)’ was a profound piece of philosophical prose. My mistake. Perhaps it's just too sophisticated for the average Earthling, like, say, someone who thinks a screwdriver is a fancy stirring implement.”
Brenda grumbled, wrestling with a piece of particleboard that clearly had no intention of cooperating. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t fit! And where’s dowel A, anyway?”
“Dowel A?” Agatha mused, finally deigning to glance at the chaotic scene. “It's likely off on a spiritual journey, exploring its inner self, far away from the oppressive tyranny of your construction efforts. Or, you know, it’s under your left foot. But the spiritual journey sounds more poetic, doesn't it?”
Brenda sighed dramatically, kicking a stray allen wrench. “Are you going to offer any *actual* help, or just provide a running sarcastic commentary on my impending nervous breakdown?”
“My dear, my commentary *is* help,” Agatha corrected, adjusting an imaginary tiara. “Think of it as motivational speaking, but for people who prefer passive-aggressive encouragement. If you truly wanted direct assistance, you’d hire a professional. Or, failing that, possess basic spatial reasoning. Which, apparently, we’re out of stock on today.”
Brenda threw her hands up. “Fine! What about this piece? It's clearly a back panel, but it has no pre-drilled holes for the nails!”
Agatha clucked her tongue. “Ah, yes, the ‘existential dilemma’ phase of flat-pack assembly. It’s designed to test your resolve, to make you question the very fabric of manufactured convenience. Or, you know, you flip it over. But where’s the character development in that?”
With a final, defeated groan, Brenda reached for her phone. “I’m just going to order takeout. This furniture can ponder its own existence.”
“A wise decision,” Agatha nodded sagely. “You've successfully assembled a phone call. Perhaps by next week, you’ll be ready to tackle assembling a sandwich. Don't worry, I’ll be here for moral support. And biting critiques.”