“BRB” says Jacque Odd, a die (die being the singular of dice, of course), as she rolls out of the sweet aisle in Aldi.
She’s recently made friends with Bob Roberts, a piece of iron, and the pair are searching for a pint of milk (not soy, oat or rice, “Just Milk”).
Pausing for a moment she adds, sassily, “Do you understand BRB or is that too Gen-Z for you?”
You’d be forgiven for thinking this is a piece of avant-garde theatre,
