You push the button.

Ding.

The pedestal is back! For some reason I feel less of a kinship with the pedestal than I do with the table.

Maybe it’s because the wood is so formal looking. Or maybe it’s because this time on top of the pedestal sits a pen and a stack of tax forms.

Woo taxes!

Let’s get to work!

Your eyes widen at the sight of the papers. You immediately stomp on the button.

Too late! I’ve already disconnected it!

Mwahahahah- ahem. Sorry.

Anyways, finding yourself trapped in a room with tax forms, you back slowly to the corner. You pound on the wall, trying to break out.

The wall remains solid.

According to google, the average concrete block can withstand 3500 PSI (pounds per square inch). This isn’t a block, but a wall, with steel reinforcement in it, which would alter that number. But let’s go with 3500. Now, most humans' average punching power falls between 60-170 PSI. According to people who study this sort of thing, the average heavyweight boxer can deliver a punch between 1,200 and 1,700 psi.

So, to punch through the wall, you’d have to get three heavyweight boxers into the room with you, and all punch at the same time.

My point in all this is, you can’t get out. You are most definitely stuck in this room, with these tax forms.

You walk up to the papers, sighing at your fate.

The first couple of pages are… Sorry, no. The first hundred and fifteen pages are the instructions.

Flipping hell, no wonder doing other people’s taxes is a whole huge business.

Anyways, The top page is the cover, the second page is the table of contents, and finally we start on page three with “Form 1040 and 1040-SR Helpful Hints”.

*ahem*

For 2020, you will use Form 1040 or, if you were born before January 2, 1956, you have the option to use Form 1040-SR. You may only need to file Form 1040 or 1040-SR and none of the numbered schedules, Schedules 1 through 3. However, if your return is more complicated (for example, you claim certain deductions or credits or owe additional taxes), you will need to complete one or more of the numbered schedules. Below is a general guide to which schedule(s) you will need to file based on your circumstances. See the instructions for the schedules for more information. If you e-file your return, you generally won't notice much of a change and the software you use will generally determine which schedules you need.

Well, this is boring.

You give up reading and just flip through the pages. Most of them are just charts, filled with numbers. You look at the ceiling and inform it that you will not, in fact, be reading any more.

Can’t say I blame you.

So what will you do with the paper?

You pick up the pen and find a page that is mostly blank. Then you sit down against the wall, put the paper against your knee for stability, and start to write.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the-

Hey wait a second! That’s the first line to A Tale of Two Cities! You can’t use that! Scratch that out and try again!

Somewhere in la Mancha, in a place-

Oh come on, that’s Don Quixote! Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that one?

I was born in the Year 1632, in the City of York, of a good Family, tho' not-

Ok, I don’t know what that one’s from, but it sounds familiar. That apostrophe after the tho is a dead giveaway that this is an old book. Try again.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a-

Yeah, no, that’s Pride and Prejudice. Come on, you could at least have gone with the first line from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

I am an invisible man.

Oh, wow, scraping the bottom of the barrel for originality there. Come on, at least your previous attempts didn’t have the title of the book in the first sentence! What’s going to be your next attempt of plagiarism, Mrs. Dalloway?

You glare out at the room, twirl the pen in your fingers, and start a truly original story.

On what I thought was an average Saturday morning I woked up and looked at my reflection in the black screen of my phone; my blue eyes and brown hair show that I had a hangover.

That… Well, that’s original for sure. You’ve got a tense change at the end, and I don’t think you mean “woked”.

You scratch out the words and try again.

It was a sunny day.

Stop right there. Just, no. Come on. You can do better than that.

It was a day that was to be important to all the ones who were gathered there that day.

Ok, better, but… You’ve got “to”, “that”, and “day” in there twice each. I’m sure you can put it better.

A surprising revelation was the only thing that would be less anticipated than the outcome of the things that happened on that first day.

Really? It’s kind of repetitive?

You glare at the ceiling, scratch the words out, and try yet again. You have a good feeling about this next one.

Darkness; a kind that can’t be imagined. And then a light. Blinding, and lasting only for a short second, but powerful enough to make the world stop spinning.

This is interesting, but a bit… I don’t know, edgelord-y? It just feels like you’re trying to prove something. It isn’t exactly the most natural beginning out there.

And then everyone died and everything sucked. The end.

You toss the pen across the room and get up, having decided that writing is not for you. Or at least, not with me reading every word as you write it.

Did you know some people stream when they write? Like seriously, how do they manage that? I’d be far too self-conscious to ever do that. And, apparently, so would you.

Taking a sheet of paper, you look it over. You test the weight and flexibility, and nod. It’s basic cheap printer paper, yep.

Not the best for making origami, but you’ve seen worse.

With deft, practiced motions, you fold and fold and fold again. After a few brief seconds, you have a paper hat.

Well done.

You put it on your head. It looks silly.

Then you take another sheet, fold fold fold, and you have a paper frog. Congratulations.

You sit there for about a quarter of an hour, making yourself an army of paper frogs. Why are you doing this? Because you can. And because you sure as hell aren’t going to be doing any taxes.

After frog number twenty you get bored, and stop.

Any other ideas?

Smiling, you pick up the stack of paper and walk to the corner of the room. You put one sheet down, move, and put another sheet down.

It really doesn’t take all that long for you to cover the floor in paper. Or, paper the floor in paper, I guess.

When it’s done, you have the most somniferous carpet ever.

Or something. I just wanted to use that word, because it’s a good word, and I have never had the opportunity to use it. Strangely enough.

What next?

With nothing better to do, you take a sheet of paper in both hands, and riiiip.

That was fun.

You take another sheet and tear it, too.

There’s something strangely enjoyable about that sound. You settle down with a stack of paper and just… tear each one in half. And then in half again. It’s calming, in a way. It isn’t the same as smashing a clock or porcelain plate, but it has kind of the same effect. It’s destruction without consequences, but without much physical exertion. And the sound is quite nice.

After a long time you get bored and stop, but it’s much longer than the usual amount of time it takes you to get bored of something. You play idly with the strips of paper for a while, feeling completely calm and at peace. You hope that the next room has a couch or something in it, because you could go for a nap.

Sadly, there is no couch in this room. Only the pedestal.

Want to see what the next room has in it?

You turn your back on the paper and pedestal, focusing once again on the button that smells like “Crisp Waters”.

DO YOU PRESS THE BUTTON? Yes No