Dear Elon Musk, where the hell is my Boring Not-a-Flamethrower?

Hey Elon! Musk, my man. My boi, my guy, my dude!

I’m looking at the calendar (can you believe it’s September already?) and, like, summer is over. 

Kids are going back to school in their crispy AF clothes and kicks and just, okay, I’ll cut to the chase: Where the f*ck is my flamethrower? I correct myself, my Not-a-Flamethrower. *Wink wink*. 

Y’all promised me I’d be roasting nuts or killing zombies like a boss this summer and I’ve yet to incinerate a single peanut for the ‘gram.

Look, Elon, I know you’re a super busy guy. You’ve got lots of big and important shit to do like running Tesla, SpaceX, The Boring Company, and tweeting yourself into trouble. 

I’m aware of all the things you’ve had on your plate this year:

These are only the highlights. There’s tons of stuff you did this year that I can’t possibly recall. All in a year’s work, I suppose, but seriously dude… where’s my fire gun?

I was Mashable was crazy enough to drop $576.37 on the Not-a-Flamethrower and a Boring-branded fire extinguisher. That was at the end of January. It’s now September and I’ve heard virtually nothing about when I’ll get my toy.

It was nice you guys had a “pick-up party” in Los Angeles in June. But I don’t live in L.A — I live in New York City. One of our L.A. guys tried to go pick it up, but they didn’t make the 1,000-person line cutoff.

NBD. I’m a patient guy, so I waited. In July, you told me there would be a pick-up party in Washington D.C. But you didn’t tell me what time and where exactly.

I sent you guys an polite email, but ya just left me hanging. Naturally, I missed the pick-up party because, dude, I’m not a friggin’ mind reader.

August rolled by and…

Elon, buddy, this ain’t cool. Breaking up hurts (trust me, we’ve all been there), but it’ll get better. Keep your eye on the ball and ship my darn Not-a-Flamethrower.

At the very least gimme an update like tracking info on when I can expect it. Something to believe in! I’m just asking for a little hope that I still might be able to BBQ like a badass this summer.

There’s still time, too! Seventeen days to be exact. Summer ain’t officially over until Sept. 22. Keep your promise, man!

I’ll be upset if it doesn’t come in the next few days. I guess I could use it to clear snow off the walk or teach a snowman a lesson or something, but that’s not gonna cure the serious FOMO I have right now.

Don’t take my summer fun away from me. Let me live a little and bask in the Instagram glory for a hot sec. It’s all I want. 

Sincerely, 

Guy Patiently Waiting For His Flamethrower Not-a-Flamethrower