The Three Broken Copy Machines: A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time - in a frightening land far, far away (The "west side" of the valley) - there lived three copy machines at an elementary school.

There was Papa copy machine; he had a fierce moan and shook when he was angry.

There was Mama copy machine; she was curvier, even less dependable, and had a eight-inch long C-section scar on her front chamber from giving birth to Baby copy machine.

There was Baby copy machine; he was smallest copy machine. Although he was also the newest, he broke down even more often than the others.  Baby copy machine was cute and adorable, but barely large enough to get both butt cheeks on - not that I have tried.  

One day, the three copy machines decided to go for a walk in the woods, and by that, I mean they all decided to break down on the same freaking day.

On that very same day, Little Red Riding Abe decided that he he would need to make copies for his first grade class.   He traveled through the halls, dropping bread crumbs to mark his path. The custodian then told him to "Knock it off!" and "You are no better than the kids!" and "Why the heck are you wearing that girly red cape around your neck?"

Upon reaching the Teacher's Work Room, Little Red Riding Abe was greeted by singing birds making a dress for the Reading Specialist out of yarn, craft sticks and a couple of glue sticks.  These pathetic singing birds were always involved in ridiculous crafts.

Little Red Riding Abe brushed the obnoxious birds into the wall using a large piece of construction paper and walked over to Baby copy machine. 

"Someones been jamming paper tray number 2!" 

Little Red Riding Abe tried Mama copy machine.

"Someones been improperly changing toner." 

Finally, Little Red Riding Abe ventured over to the Papa copy machine, even though he knew Papa was always grouchy and may even be in heat - as he often gets in mid September.

"Someones been hosing down Papa copy machine."

Frustrated, Little Red Riding Abe tried planting magical seeds in the corner that one of his first graders had handed to him during recess that day.  He hoped that a new copy machine would sprout and that a kindhearted giant would live in it's document handling unit.

Poor Riding Abe's hopes were soon dashed when the the Fairy God Principal walked in and asked why in the world he was pulling up the carpet and shoving navy beans under it. 

Little Red Riding Abe's answer did not satisfy the Fairy God Principal.  It was explained to Red Riding Abe that due to discretionary budget cuts in the district, there would be no way to repair the copy machine family until the Tuesday of next week.  

That poor, poor copy machine family.  The poor, poor faculty and staff.  There was much lamentation in the land.

- I do believe I am now mixing scripture speak with fairy tale speak.  My sincerest apologies. - 

Little Red Riding Abe decided to cut his losses and just run the 25 copies on his personal copier, Thumbelina. (Clearly much more cost effective for the district.) Unfortunately, his bread crumb trail leading back to his classroom had been vacuumed up by the three Billy Goat Sweeper Boys.  He was left to wander the halls, grasping for some sign of familiarity.

Fortunately, Little Red Riding Abe found cabin made of gumdrops, paperclips and red, rubber playground balls.  There he made a life for himself, eating leftover cafeteria lasagna and living off the land.

Eventually he died in an abandoned school bus due to ingestion of a poisonous plant.

(FYI: If you have not yet watched me wax my arm hair, it is in the post below.)