Month-o-Blogs, 1/30

For the past 364 days
I have been collecting the little circles.
You know the ones,
The ones from three-hole punches.
I have asked my coworkers to to the same
And with nary a question
they have complied
With somber brows
and fearful eyes they've poured
into my styrofoam coffee cup
their punch leavings.

This morn at 6:47 AM
the hated engineering supervisor
leaving a trail of slime
emerged from his office to attend the
Morning Production Meeting.

I gathered supplies about me:
roll of scotch tape,
length of string,
and the cup.
I crept, nay...skipped
to his office door
to lay the trap:
String taped to
cup bottom taped to
inner top door jam
with cup resting above, lying
in wait for its one chance
to serve a higher purpose
than its brethren before
going to the landfill at the end
of the path.

And what a sight it was to behold, as the odoriferous fool returned from his meeting, shoved open his door, and was greeted by several thousand little white discs of paper raining down.  A higher percentage than I ever dared hope, which landed on his head.

And the and the downtrodden citizens rejoiced.

Happy April Fools