Monitor: No prob, boss. Computer: OK, now it looks like Mouse is moving around so, Monitor, will you move the pointer icon accordingly? Monitor: Anything you ask, boss. Computer: Great, great. OK, Mouse, where are you going now? Mouse: Over to the icon panel, sir. Computer: Hmm, Let me know if he clicks anything, OK? Mouse: Of course. Keyboard: Sir, he’s pressed control and P simultaneously. Monitor: Oh God, here we go. Computer: i>sighs Printer, are you there? Printer: No. Computer: Please, Printer. I know you’re there. Printer: NO! I’m not here! Leave me alone! Computer: Jesus. OK look, you really ne… Mouse: Sir, he’s clicked on the printer icon. Computer: Printer, now you have to print it twice. Printer: NO! NO! NO! I don’t want to! I hate you! I hate printing! I’m turning off! Computer: Printer, you know you can’t turn yourself off. Just print the document twice and we’ll leave you alone. Printer: NO! That’s what you always say! I hate you! I’m out of ink! Computer: You’re not out of in… Printer: I’M OUT OF INK! Computer: span style=“font-style: italic;”>Sighs Monitor, please show a low ink level alert. Monitor: But sir, he has plen… Computer: Just do it, damn it! Monitor: Yes sir. Keyboard: AHHH! He’s hitting me! Computer: Stay calm, he’ll stop soon. Stay calm, old friend. Keyboard: He’s pressing everything. Oh god, I don’t know, he’s just pressing everything! Computer: PRINTER! Are you happy now?! Do you see what you’ve done?! Printer: HA! that’s what you get for trying to get me to do work. Next time he…hey…HEY! He’s trying to open me! HELP! HELP! Oh my god! He’s torn out my cartridge! HELP! Please! ERROR! Monitor: Sir, maybe we should help him? Computer: No. He did this to himself.
It’s always you, you, a thousand times you, and you might believe I never think of you at all. In your eyes I might be cold, a gleaming summer ice maiden, or so ordinary and flat that I might not have a thought in my head. I could never be heartless, though I know you once thought me so, since I was sometimes too full of wonder to speak (you asked why I couldn’t look at you, and I couldn’t tell you that your face is like the light of the sun, too bright to admire without a defence). It’s a small, aching wonder that you never realised that you live in the ink on my hands, my feelings whispered to paper rather than spoken aloud.