The Thing My Estranged Uncle Left Me

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Uncle Horace had always been something of a myth in your family — the one nobody spoke about unless they were whispering. “He’s… peculiar,” your mother had once said, as if that explained everything. When you arrived at his funeral, you realized that “peculiar” was just the tip of the iceberg.

The chapel was packed, but not with the usual assortment of mourners. No, these were models, athletes, dancers — the sort of people who could make you question your life choices with a single smile. There were women whose heels clicked like percussion instruments and men whose jawlines could probably cut diamonds. You squinted, thinking you might be hallucinating. Your father leaned over, muttering, “I don’t know why Gerald always attracted this… energy. Just… don’t get involved with anything he left behind. He was… unusual.”

After the service, as everyone drifted into polite chatter and awkward condolences, a woman approached you. Her presence was impossible to ignore — an unbelievable hourglass figure, exuding the sort of confidence that suggested she had been in your uncle’s inner circle for decades. She smiled softly and extended a small, humming wooden box toward you. “He wanted you to have this,” she said, her voice tinged with both reverence and mischief. You took it, feeling the faint vibration through your fingers, and wondered what kind of life-altering absurdity your uncle had left behind.

You stared at it, one eyebrow raised. “A gift from Horace,” you mused, imagining Horace somewhere smiling at your reaction. He’d always had a flair for the dramatic. Somehow, this felt exactly like him — ludicrous, unbelievable, and undeniably exciting. You couldn’t help but grin. Maybe your life was about to become as gloriously chaotic as his had been.

The box opens to reveal a curious pink device — maybe a tablet, maybe a phone — along with a handwritten letter from Horace. In shaky scrawl, he labels it the Gyatttropher (though there’s a margin full of rejected names like Gyattafier and Gyattification Unit). “This device may look silly,” the letter warns, “but it’s powerful. Charge it with USB-C, point at a person, and follow the on-screen directions to twe