SNEAKY STUFF – Junktopia
We’re what happens when your stuff starts thinking for itself—and takes it way too far. We’re the sock that whispers at night. The banana that refuses to rot out of pure stubbornness. The toilet that’s seen things no one should survive.
We are Sneaky Stuff. Lost, dropped, flushed, forgotten—but never gone. You left us in drawers, backpacks, gym bags, glove compartments. We remember. The bounce. The slam. The humiliation of being called “just a thing.”
In Junktopia, we make our own rules. Scissors refuse to cut anything but trust. Bouncy balls ricochet through every conversation. Spoons form alliances. Nothing sits still, everything judges you, and someone’s always plotting something from inside a shoebox.
We don’t care about purpose—we care about revenge, attention, and making you deeply uncomfortable. Arguments break out over who’s the shiniest. Parades are thrown for no one. Something’s always vibrating, and it’s never for a good reason.
We’re Sneaky Stuff. You dropped us. Recycled us. Flushed us. Now we own the place.