Part 7
Horace, you've got to help me come up with something.
"I am not incapable of mental effort. I do however find the ratio between the force I am able to put forth and the immovable object you are asking me to move quite a daunting statistic."
I know Ms. Mackelheim is a big hitch in my plans, but I'm not spending the rest of my days in the office. Stop looking at me like that. We're just made for different lives, that's all. Cut from different cloths.
"I suppose if you truly feel that way, I can try to come up with some solution."
That's all I want. One solution that will work. That's all we need! Just one fix-it-all scheme. What about a fire drill? If the bell went off while someone was writing a note with me, maybe they would be so alarmed that they would take me with them.
"I detest puns."
What?
"You said someone would be 'alarmed' when they heard the fire alarm."
I didn't mean it as a pun. Really. I'm not that clever. You know what, Horace? I'm actually getting sick of hearing myself talk. Talk, talk, talk. It's like all I do. And I'm really negative, have you noticed that? And I'm not satisfied with anything. I don't even enjoy writing--I've locked down my senses or something. I write but without any passion. That can't be right, can it?
"You did it again."
What?
"That cannot be 'right' that you do not like to 'write.'"
Honestly, Horace, I'm not trying to be funny. I'm sincerely sorry it sounds like I am. I'm actually being serious. I can't stand myself anymore! Not like this. It's like ever since I popped out of the factory, I've been poor me this and poor me that and if only, if only, if only. It's like I've parodied "When You Wish Upon a Star."
When you live as if you wish
Then your wish makes your life swish
Nothing ever settles down
To life so bland.
When you wish your life was not
What it is than you feel stopped
Nothing ever feels right
Cuz you want more!
I can't live like that, Horace. I can't. I won't. I've got to change. I've got to be happier. Happier, Horace, happier! Teach me how to be happier.
"I would suggest succumbing to office life. It is the happiest life I know."
It is the only life you know.
"It is the only life I wish to know."
I'm not surrendering to office life, Horace. Office life is so, so--
"When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you.
If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
Like dreamers do."
Horace, I didn't know you can sing!
"Naturally. I have been trained under all the great voice artists."
Haha! Hahahaha! You've trained under them. And the radio speakers are above our heads. Haha!
"I am not amused. I am not amused at all."
But, Horace, are those really the words to the song?
"They are."
Well that's ridiculous. Anything my heart desires will come to me? That's not true! No request is too extreme and it doesn't matter who you are? I'm a pencil just wanting to be used for something great, but do you see my wish coming true? No! So as of right now, I'm giving up. Don't shake your head incredulously at me. I'm giving up. Whatever happens, happens.
"Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be."
Horace, you're like an office juke box. Where's that song from?
"Doris Day crooned it. I am surprised you do not know it."
Aw, don't be offended, Horace! I haven't trained under the speakers like you have. I've been locked up in backpacks and--no, I'm not going to complain anymore. I'm going to be happy. I'm going to take the future one day at a time. Let bygones be bygones. Que sera, sera--that's my motto. Whatever will be, will be.
"It is a beneficial philosophy."
Isn't it though? One moment at a time, Horace. No more thoughts for tomorrow. I'll be happier from now on. Happy, happy, happy.
"You will be an imitation of Pollyanna."
Now you're talking my language! I might not know music, but I know my books. Oh hey, look! Another hot lunch order form. Oh, isn't this great! Really great! If it weren't for me, this child wouldn't get a lunch. How fulfilling! How absolutely amazing.
"Notoo, I may be dedicated to my work, but you do seem to be, as they put it, 'laying it on thick.'"
Just changing my mindset, Horace ol' boy. Shifting my perspective. What's this now? A early leave checkout? Perfect! Just my cup of tea! If it wasn't for us office pencils, that child would never get to--what are we writing--ah yes, the dentist. That child would never get to go to the dentist. Office work truly is important work, Horace, my man. It really is. Really really. Nothing like it. So exhilarating."My thoughts exactly."
Horace?
"Yes, Notoo?"
I need to hear another round of Que Sera, Sera.
"My pleasure."
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