I Fought The Printer,and the Printer Won

I stared at it and clenched my jaw. It stared back, blinking it's green light at me.

"All right, Printer," I said, getting ready to square off. "You're going to do what I say. You're going to print these damn labels, and they're going to look good! You're not going to put half on one label and half on another label. They're going to be straight and even. And you're not going to smear them like cheap mascara."

The printer hummed at me and shook a little. Than it calmed.

I fed the page into the slot and it grabbed it. Than it took it all the way through.

"You stupid machine!" I yelled, smacking it. Still humming and moving, the green light turned red. I had angered it. The humming stopped.

"Oh now your feelings are hurt," I said, circling it. "Now I have to push your little button and make it all better. You're playing with my head here, Printer."

The printer sat silently, taunting me. I sighed and pushed the silver button. It sprang into life, mocking me as it hummed and shook quietly, making clicking noises.

"You were faking it," I glared at the printer. "You faker." The printer stopped humming and fell silent.

I pushed print again and it sprang back into life. The paper fed through and once again, the labels were off kilter. They were too high, and smeared with black ink.

"Listen you!" I yelled, shaking my deformed label sheet at the smug printer, "This is not how this works! You're supposed to do this the right way! These labels are expensive! You're wasting my husband's money, you jerk! Not to mention my labels."

The printer just blinked at me silently.

I walked a few steps, and turned back around and faced it. "Ok," I said. "I'm going to print this one more time. Just one more time. And you're going to do it the right way. If you don't- you're going out the window. It's a 100 degrees outside, and you're a cushy indoor printer. You're spoiled. Trust me- you ain't gonna like it."

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Growling, I printed the labels once again. I heard the printer fire up in the other room and paced anxiously. They wouldn't be messed up again. They wouldn't be. It promised.

When I heard the humming stop, I dashed over to see if it worked. The labels were perfect. All lined up, no smudges, no mess. The printer looked sorry.

"Well you should be sorry," I sniffed at it. "Wasting all my labels that way! No fresh ink for you!" As I sashayed out of the room, I turned quietly and whispered, "I'm sorry too."