You are lost, dear tape gun. I saw you but a few weeks ago. Where did you fly to?
Tape gun, I cannot build boxes without you.
I have searched. Dug. Peered. Even whimpered. Alas, foul tape gun, you remain stubbornly hidden.
I have piles of books. Don't you see, darned tape gun?
Heaps of items destined to be stored for just a short while.
No boxes though. The boxes cannot be, they just cannot come to pass without you.
Maybe you're in the truck.
The truck went to seminary for the day.