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The Norseman

The Norseman

The Norseman

Living a stapler’s life

I haven’t always been angry at the world. Well, maybe not the whole world; just Mandy specifically. This all started a year ago when that stuck-up device arrived. I used to be the first-rate staple, the Caesar to the classroom’s Rome. But alas, we can’t all be automatic staplers with the newest technology and all the bells and whistles.

Let me start at the beginning. My name is Mindy, Mindy the Stapler. I came to this paradise – now Hell – three years ago. It was nice being the queen stapler and having loyal underlings, the common staplers, knowing I was the best. I don’t even understand why a new stapler was needed; I never failed and, I always got the metal into the paper. It’s not rocket science and after all, it’s my only function. Then there was the day Mandy the Stapler arrived, fresh out of the crate. I cringed as I heard her staple for the first of many times to come, knowing that I would have to take the backseat and merely watch as she claimed all the glory.

There she is now, sitting there smugly, just waiting for someone to need a staple. I know she thinks she’s the best – she can’t stand not being used. What is so difficult about stapling anyway, why do these people need an automatic stapler – are they just weak? Here comes Mrs. Dominy ruler of the world. Wow, does she have a lot of paper. Of course! She goes to Mandy and not me. It’s hardly ever me anymore; it’s always Mandy.

Wait a second! What’s this? Mandy jammed! Finally, there was just too much paper for that upstart to handle. Mrs. Dominy is coming to me now, it’s my turn to shine. I know I can handle any amount of paper, unlike Mandy. There we go, finally, I am being used for my true purpose again. It has been so long since anyone bothered, I almost forgot what it was like to complete a days work.

I now know I cannot live like this any longer. That one last staple was nice, but it was only temporary, a lightning bolt in a thunderstorm. I need to do something, something drastic, to reclaim my old station. I wonder, would the simple staplers be willing to help me? I thought I was always kind to them, always respectful and fair. I know they are simple beings similar to goldfish, but they must remember me and my reign. If they help it would be easy for Mandy to “accidentally” fall into a puddle, sink, or a liquid of any type.

But why bother with water? If she just falls a few times that fancy machinery will surely be damaged. If the first attempt fails it might be harder for many others, and there is no guarantee she will be wrecked. Maybe if she just went missing – yes, that is it! Take her to a place where no one will ever find her and leave her there. It will be a great mystery, but soon she will be forgotten and things will be like they were.

Wait, this is crazy! I can’t kill a fellow stapler just because I hate her. But on the other hand, being used felt just right. I know this is insane, but I need it like an alcoholic needs a drink. Staplers were meant to staple – without stapling, I have no purpose, no reason to exist. I think I know what I need to do, I need to be useful again, I must. There is only one thing I am certain of now, Mandy must be eliminated.

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