Not too many jobs to do, so for the most part I did a lot of staring.
Staring at these completely full cases of paper wondering why. Why can't I end your life.
Then, I recieved a message from an angel...
It was more like an E-mail from a person, but that's what it felt like.
They said "Ricky, I have something for you to print."
I jumped for joy. I was feeling the same way Jame Gumb felt when he would trap his prey, torture them, and then wear their skin.
Except what I do is sit the paper right in front of the copy machine. Make it watch me as I put their paper brothers and sisters into my tool of death. Then once a fresh copy comes out, sit it next to the untouched paper and yell "Smell the toner! This is gonna be you in a few minutes!!!!"
I have people ask me all the time, "Why do you do what you do? What about the environment? You're killing the earth!"