Reserve

Junk Luck Fortune Cookies

Junk luck. Local kine.

Five fortune cookies, all gentle bad luck: parking, rain, traffic, da kine.

Send a pail · $16.99

Free to reserve, free to cancel. No humbug.

or crack one first
Bummah the fortune cookie peeking up from the bottom edge, wide-eyed and sweating, gripping a fortune slip with a nervous grin.

Go ahead. Crack one.

A pail of junk luck.

Five different misfortunes, wrapped to give.
No filler. Zero lucky ones.

Illustration of the Small Kine Pail: a white takeout pail with a round Bummahs sticker on the front, and five wrapped fortune cookies in a row in front of it. Illustration
  • 5cookies
  • 5different misfortunes
  • Bummah under a little rain cloud, looking sad: nothing lucky in here. 0lucky

Pick your pail

Who deserves um?

Illustration of an open white takeout pail with a round Bummahs sticker on a breakroom counter, five wrapped fortune cookies in front of it and coworkers’ hands reaching for them. Illustration

Da kine you know too well.

  • Bummah carrying one more tray of mac salad toward a long table already full of identical trays, eyes wide and sweating.

    ‘Bring any kine dish.’ You brought the twelfth mac salad.

  • Bummah straining under a wobbling stack of moving boxes while a smiling friend in a white sun visor holds up one finger, the sun setting behind them.

    ‘Quick favor, no humbug,’ says Tita. It takes all Saturday.

  • Bummah still waving goodbye from the open door of a small teal car under a full moon.

    ‘Okay, latahs.’ Then forty minutes in the driveway.

  • Bummah whispering into a coconut-shell phone whose cord runs straight to an auntie cookie in round glasses, already gasping.

    ‘No tell Auntie.’ The coconut wireless already did.

  • Bummah soaked and unimpressed at the wheel of a small red car, rain pouring in from a gray cloud overhead.

    ‘Chance um, leave the windows down.’ The rain heard that.

  • An uncle cookie in a gray cap raising a paper cup and a long three-page speech while Bummah waits beside him holding a cup, sweating.

    ‘One quick toast, then pau.’ Uncle unfolds three pages.

  • Bummah loaded with a beach chair, bodyboard and cooler, staring in horror at a parking lot packed with cars.

    ‘Secret spot, no mo people.’ Forty cars in the lot.

  • Bummah eyeing a big phone that shows a friend in sunglasses relaxing at the beach.

    ‘No can, working Saturday.’ Braddah’s beach photos say otherwise.

Send junk luck home.

No can mail plate lunch. Mail junk luck instead. They will laugh.

Send one home · $16.99
Bummah mid double take, cracked open with a fortune slip poking out, eyes wide.
Mail um one pail

Somebody deserves um.

Send a pail · $16.99
Small Kine Pail1 pail · 5 misfortunes
Reserve now · $16.99
First batch · pre-launch

Reserve your pail

No payment. Free to cancel.

Shipping & details