I Hold In My Hand What’s Left Of A Year

I’m sitting here peering icily at the small black box clutched innocently enough between the index finger and thumb in my left hand. Casual twists of my wrist muscles causes the light to bend and bolden its unpolished dark surface while causing the lettering to vanish and return in controlled intervals.

I just finished the ‘enviable’ task of tearing my solid state drive out of my computer and as I look down maliciously at this small, seemly box, the monitor out of the corner of my eye demands attention; that I will be giving it just as soon as I finish these words.

A thousand plagues on the creator of this walking misery. What villain bestowed on us such blessings of speed and comfort, at the “small” price that but just twice a year, the entire operating system of our machine will immolate into a ball of cinders.

Don’t tell me to turn off the auto write features of Windows, for I would surely rebuke you with stern and hate filled words.

AND ALL MY RAGE BEATH NOW DIRECTED AT MICROSOFT, THOSE FIENDS WHO KNOW NOT HOW TO DIRECT THEIR SOFTWARE NOT TO CARELESSLY WRITE A THOUSAND TIMES OVER PRECIOUS SPACE STRIKING IT INTO OBLIVION. YES THEY DESERVE TO DIE, AND I HOPE THEY BURN IN HELL.