The Printer

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Oh yes, big printers are evil.

Submitted: July 15, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 15, 2008



You overcompensate, trying to boost your confidence, and I must admit all of us have yet to be amused. This constant tail wagging observance leaves us wondering why we even bother. Had we asked for your overproduction then by all means, we’d be delighted, ecstatic at this mess of color and text, but really! Really? Was this necessary? Do you realize how many hours we’ve wasted watching you attempt a steady stream of work, making the most vile of headaches arise in the most placid of people. I can’t even comprehend your reasons for stalling. Companionship? A need for attention? What made you think this would help you gain praise. It’s ludicrous, and I think you know this full well. I believe you are aware of the sympathy offered up when the heat becomes too much, and you can’t seem to control your intake. You milk you opportunities for all they are worth, for much more than they are worth, for more than we will soon be willing to give.

Quite frankly, I have ended my association with patience and want to smack you, something more than cursing your existence within my own head, but you are useful now, aren’t you? The reason I hate you so, has been unearthed. I could not do this without you, and oh, how you love it, smug in your temporary status, bathed in attention, so much attention. You couldn’t care less that we loathe the very mention of your name, the slightest implication of having to resume the endeavor frustration has deemed hopeless. But wickedly, you glow, basking in the heat of our hatred.

Wait. Just you wait. When this is over, all this pent up aggression will unleash itself in a fervor you could never have imagined, not even in the throes of that heat that renders you useless. An attack, enticed by your suffering, will bring your actions into sight, your regrets and whispered apologies knocking you senseless.

My emotions settle, my breathing beginning to resume its normal pace. You are working steadily, determined before me. Page upon page I stack upon the rest, almost finished. The end has come into sight, and I can almost feel the satisfaction, cold and smooth under my finger tips. An excitement begins to breech the barriers I have put up, barricading my hope back. They ooze forward, my eyes growing wide, a smile working onto my face unreservedly. Yes! I want to scream, scream of joy, ecstatic for the end of this age of suffering.

But…no! No, no! A beep sounds in the air, the smell of heat drifting over toward my nose, assaulting me violently from under its disguise. That flashing green light blinks bright. On and off. On and off.

Cautiously I lift your lid, white papers flop out, all in a bundle together, smeared in a rainbow of colors, burnt on the edges.

I release a breath. Calm girl, calm. With a tug, I drag the ruined copies from their prison, dropping them in the trash. Not again.

I lay across a desk, leaving you open. Take your time, I want to mutter bitterly. I’ve got nothing better to do, right?

I’ve given you longer than I think you need, I think you deserved and secure your lid gently, despite my wishes. One more time. It will all be fine.

The computer’s demands reach you. I can tell by the whirling going on within you. Success I conclude, assert to myself, turning to resume my daydream.


I close my eyes, my fists clenching, nails digging into skin. I stare at you, a long stony glare that you take, unharmed by your death wish.

Fine. I’ve had enough. Don’t look at me with your big blue neon eye. Don’t even bother. It’s not going to work this time. It shouldn’t have worked all the times before, but now, this is the end of the line. I am done tolerating all this drama that I don’t need. I’ll find someone else who will do the job with no ulterior motives.

I reach beneath you, caressing your grey chord for a moment. I’ll let you think I’ve started to go back on my word, give up my fury to give you another chance. But oh, how wrong you are this time. You don’t know how far you’ve gone even with all my warnings, my declarations of the reality of the situation, you’ll just never learn. You’ll never learn.

I pull your plug firmly.

Goodbye, printer. Goodbye.

© Copyright 2018 Aislin Kane. All rights reserved.

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