You know the one I'm talking about. The staple gun
. Not that tiny little dinky stapler
you may have come to use on your essays and assignments
, but the industrial-size
, hand-operated, racing-red
coloured staple gun machine of destruction
never let you play with one. And when they did, it was strictly to pin little coloured pieces of paper to the wall. My various Gods, what a waste of perfectly good staples. And when you did get you hands on one when no one was watching, it was out of staples
. Those bastards
So you can imagine my excitement a couple of years ago when I finally laid my hands on one of those babies. And it was fully-loaded
to my excitement. Let the mayhem
First I was just flicking staples at random people
in my class. Then it all got a little boring, as they realised the full extent of the awesome power I had - "Not the neck, anything but the neck! Noooooo! Ahhhhhh!"
. I was a God for five minutes.
Feeling uplifted, I left the classroom (the teacher went off on some minor chore
, and this is how I got my hands on the staple gun in the first place) and went on a wild rampage
through the school. Ok, maybe not wild
, maybe not a rampage
. But just imagine how I felt with all that power
... It's worth mentioning that my ex-school used to have wooden lockers. Rows and rows of lockers up on the walls, all with little wooden doors. Wood
. Standard-Issue High-School Staple Gun
that put 10x5 mm staples through most elements commonly known to men. It all adds up to ...
Needless to say, within roughtly around two minutes I have used up all the staples
I had. Sure, by that time 4 or 5 lockers
were in such condition that they couldn't be opened without major work performed on them by the local metalwork
class, but still. I had no more ammunition
Off to the office
. "Excuse me miss, we have ummm seem to run out of staples in the Statistics class ... I was ummm sent (yes, that would fool the office lady! just keep lying ...) by Mr. Shaw to get some more."
If only I wasn't holding the staple gun in my hand. I so wish I wasn't. But unfortunately that was not the case
. To cut the long story short, the office lady
did not give me staples. Instead she sent me back to my class, where the teacher was already back, and in the middle of a lesson on binomial expansion
. The staple gun
was confiscated, and I got a detention
. That, and they made me un-staple all the lockers that I spent so much time stapling together.
Since that time I never got my hands on a staple gun
again. And let this be a lesson to you all - possession of a standard-issue high-school staple gun
does not make you God
. It is helluva fun
though. And that it is ...