Stapler, Mr. Plant

Stapler, Mr. Plant, minimalist that you are. Stapler please.

Surely you can’t just let it fall to the ground in such a manner, spilling its prefabricated parts assembled without remorse all over this cold floor. Surely you have sensitivity Mr. Plant, for the fake plants assembled in your bank lobby, falling to and fro, stressed under the unitary budget and global deficit.

Stapler please, Mr. Plant as you can see the minimalism is simply too much with our current society, you are a visionary. Change the world once, and you are celebrated as a hero, change it twice, and you become your own martyr, Tesla syndrome you know.

We picked you, crafted you, and have attempted to prefabricate your success, now will you hand me that stapler?

Surely you’re not just going to let it fall along with your aesthetic nihilism, such a rich beauty, into the oblivion of that concrete floor.

Dreams are prefabricated and plastic wrapped in our generation and you sir, are a subversive, dreaming with minimal efforts, sounds carried on by silence.

So as we attempt to flood you with our red tape shenanigans would you just bear with us and aid our bureaucracy?

Stapler, Mr. Plant, minimalist that you are. Stapler please.

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