If the printers did not work for you yesterday, know that this was my design.

I am the Pawprint Imp (the Pawprimp if you will). I sneak, I crouch, I scuttle about; I steal sheets of blank paper—it gives me a thrill. I am the one tampering with wires; I am the one delaying your prints. I nibble on the sheets of paper, and I guzzle on cartridges of ink.

I am the one forcing you to scan your ID over and over, only to refuse to print your work. Too small! Too large! The size of your document is “custom” not “letter;” my impish mischief has never been bolder.

I am the one tempting you to install a driver—print in color for a select few of printers! But which ones? I’ll never say; also, your lack of appropriate software will always result in an error. I am the one telling the printer to make several copies of your request; make a simple, double-sided sheet of paper a stack of four hundred copies…one for each time you scanned your ID and absolutely nothing happened.

Are you late to class because of the printer system? Staring with hopeless yearning at the touchpad, wondering why it stopped processing your request? Well, that was certainly my doing! I held your requested sheet of paper between my teeth and giggled in fiendish delight, as your eyes teared up looking at the minute hands moving forward while your printing time stood still.

I will build an empire out of discarded French papers, intro stats problem sets, scathing reviews of creative writing projects, flyers for events, images arranged to be cut out for art projects. I will craft them into my throne of academic misery and fold the corners of the papers into a crown of mischief and sadism. I will scatter them about in the Butler entrance draft and clog the air vents with this forest of garbage—your names will forever be trapped in the cracks of our university.

I will charge you for each sheet of paper, though I gave no indication that I was going to print them in the first place. I will snatch the five dollars you had no idea you spent and still demand more—for…did your essay due five hours ago even print?

I am the Pawprint Imp, making your day noticeably worse with my misdeeds. I am bashing the insides of the printers with hammers and tearing the hardware apart with my tiny, evil hands.

I am the Pawprint Imp, and I live for your inconvenience.

Imps at the Printer via Author