What’s our exquisite fate anyway? What are we to have done in order to exclusively call ourselves homebodies? I shall think that there are very few gentlemen who would disagree with my sentiments, and you have nothing to be worried about when it comes to the stakes of our overwhelming jurisdictions.

But where’s our stapler? I had it just this morning, so where could it be now? I search through all of our houses every day for this damn stapler, why is it so difficult to locate? It could have decided to walk around from place to place, but I sincerely doubt it. Come to think about it, that stapler hasn’t even been able to crawl around since the great stapler fight of ought five, where loose leaf pages flew around the mahogany study (not the walnut study), defying our human need for organization and creating a new and equitable status for all office supplies–or so they thought.


Author: Aidan Badinger

Wharved.com I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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