I check and sure enough, I was short on Philips screws.
The next month, it happened again. "You're out of turpentine."
I couldn't explain it. I figured I might have a ghost. So I brought in a paranormal expert.
"You don't have a ghost." he concluded after some tests. "It's your workbench."
"My workbench?"
"Somehow a random series of nicks and abrasions from your repairs has triggered an intelligence, one that is able to monitor its immediate vicinity and communicate."
"That makes no sense."
"I realize it's counter-intuitive."
--Dan Kilian
Mark Twain, Karl Marx, and Socrates: At It Again
No comments:
Post a Comment