The Ink of Evil

On May 22, 2005, a cold and seemingly ordinary Sunday night held the promise of a triumph for you. You were on the verge of completing a critical essay for your English class, a piece you had poured your heart into. You were determined to succeed despite being sure that your teacher hates you for some reason (a story for another time, wink-wink). Countless hours of research and numerous drafts were about to pay off, and you could almost taste success.

A hulking black printer had been a fixture in the dimly lit living room for years. Your fingers hesitated momentarily on the keyboard before you pressed “Cmd+P.” “Is this it? Is it really over?” you whispered to yourself as you clicked “Print,” everything seemed normal. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you received the confirmation on your screen; the finish line was within sight.

Suddenly, your heart skips a beat when an unpleasant noise emanates from the printer. You slowly turned to look, hoping to see crisp pages emerging, but the printer’s display read: “Error: Low Ink.” “Are you serious?” you shouted in frustration. “I just replaced the cartridge last week!”

Frustration and intrusive thoughts swirled in your mind. You want to end it all by smashing the pain device with a hammer. You manage to restrain yourself. Instead, you turned the printer off and on, praying for a miracle. The machine went through its startup routine, lights blinking and internal parts shifting. “Finally,” you thought. Holding your breath, you made another attempt, trying not to scare the printer. “Thank you!” you exclaimed as the printer began the process of etching your words onto the paper.

Then, just as the first page was about to be completed, the machine abruptly stopped. No error message appears; it simply refuses to cooperate. You couldn’t help but suspect that the printer had developed a sinister consciousness, deliberately frustrating your efforts. Hours passed as you exhausted every possible method to salvage your assignment, but all your efforts were in vain.

The following day, as you leave for school, you hear an unusual sound coming from the living room. It wasn’t the usual mechanical noise or beep; it was almost like a chuckle. Your teacher didn’t believe you did the assignment, giving you a failing grade on the assignment.

You returned home feeling defeated. “This horrible day cannot get worse,” you thought. However, as you entered the living room, the unimaginable occurred. Your assignment, the source of all your troubles, lay perfectly printed in the paper tray.

In that unexpected moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if the printer had, in its own peculiar way, decided to relent and grant you a chance for redemption or if it was just feeding from your pain. It remained a mystery, an enigma of that cold May night in 2005. Rumour has it that somewhere in a landfill, there’s a Hewlett-Packard still laughing to this day.

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Since I found writing this piece both amusing and, frankly, a bit bizarre (like, "WTF was I thinking?"), I've decided to gift it to the world! You're welcome…? (Find the license below.)

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