“Fuck this fucking printer! It fucking sucks. Fucking sucks! And I sure as shit don’t need this today! This fucking stupid fuck, fuck, fuck of a fuck fucking PRINTER!”
The woman who screams these words knows my struggle. What she doesn’t know is that yelling these words at the top of your lungs is going to get you tossed from the Studio City library.
“I don’t even want to use this fucking printer anymore!” she shouts at a patient librarian. “I’m never coming to this branch again!”
The woman storms out, and the room exhales.
“She was sitting in your seat earlier,” the woman sitting across from me says. “I’m glad your here instead.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I promise my printer meltdown will be an internal monologue.”