Wanda the Corner Destroyer

 

The following is based on a true story. The instigator in the true story is really called Wanda. And she really did destroy the corner of a table. With a hand saw.

 

...

 

"Fuck you, corners!," said Wanda, as she brandished her hand saw and sloppily hacked at the table in the furniture shop.

 

"But wait!," said the sales assistant. "You can't just randomly start sawing off the corners of that table!"

 

"Why not?"

 

"You haven't paid for it yet!"

 

"I don't care! Corners are evil! They all must perish!"

 

"What if we reduce it by another 20%?"

 

"I'll reduce it by another 20%!"

 

And she did. With her saw.

 

"Madam, I must insist that you-"

 

"Keep the fuck away from me, unless you desire to be de-cornered!" - she said this whilst waving her saw in the sales assistant's face.

 

"Okay, okay..." - he stepped back.

 

Wanda started working on the third corner, her face set to a determined if slightly manic grimace.

 

The sales assistant (whose badge said he was called 'Mike') adopted a resigned tone and posture and said, "What do you have against corners?"

 

"What," said Wanda, "do I have against corners?! They are evil! They are the bane of my existence! They cause bruising to my thighs! Do you want to see my thighs?"

 

Mike considered this offer for a moment. In a slightly less insane and destructive context, Wanda had the potential for being 'quite attractive.' Under the circumstances, however, he didn't consider it prudent to agree to the offer of looking at her corner-bruised thighs.

 

"May I just enquire," said Mike, "as to what you intend to do, once you have cut off all four corners of this table?"

 

"I have sandpaper," said Wanda.

 

"Okay, that's good. Then what?"

 

"How many corners do you think there are in the world?"

 

"Um... lots?"

 

"Exactly! And an uncountable number of bruised thighs! The wrongs of the world will not be righted until I have taken my saw to all the corners on Earth!"

 

"And sandpaper."

 

"Yes, and sandpaper."

 

"But isn't that a bit... um..."

 

"What?!"

 

"Ambitious?"

 

"Do you think I am insane?!"

 

Mike looked at Wanda's face. If ever there was a facial personification of 'insane,' here it was. Gritted teeth. Crazy hair. Blotchy skin. Slightly foamy dribble flecking the sides of her mouth.

 

"Of course not," he responded, with as much sincerity as he could muster.

 

"I shall saw off and sand down all the corners I can, before deathly exhaustion takes me to its eternal bosom...."

 

"Well that's a plan."

 

"It is... okay that's that one done."

 

"It doesn't look too bad actually."

 

"Thanks."

 

"May I just ask..." said Mike.

 

"What?," said Wanda.

 

"That you don't hack off any more of the corners of the tables in this shop?"

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because I won't get my bonus."

 

"Fair enough."

 

Wanda wiped the sweat from her brow, took up her Tools of Justice, left the furniture shop and, with steely determination and nary a backwards glance, set to righting the thigh-bruising wrongs of the world. One fucking corner at a time.