My pathetic attempt at heart-warming comedy. Inspired by 'Giving Up The Ghost', a stupid comedy routine I've been listening to all day.

Ever felt a staple pierce your brain?

I don't mean one of those pathetic little office-supply staples, I mean those big wood staples people use to baste something together and then just never actually nail it together.

Lazy bastards.

But back to the subject of staples; has one ever pierced your brain?

One has pierced mine. Just about five minutes ago, in fact. It had really inconvenient timing, too. My Sister's gonna be home in what, five minutes? And seeing me lying here bleeding to death from a brain basting might be a little traumatic for her.

You're probably thinking, 'Why in the hell does this moron have a staple in his head?' That's actually a good question.

See, it all started when I came into the garage earlier. No one else was home, so I figured I'd dig out the keys to Dad's motorcycle and take it for a spin. I went into the garage and started rifling around through box after box of useless shit. Of course, I found the keys on my third try. They were actually up on the shelf that runs around the walls of the garage. I wouldn't know this had I not moved the wrong box and had the shelf not collapsed on my head. It turns out Dad didn't fix the shelving onto the wall; he put ELMERS GLUE on it. I kid you not. ELMERS GLUE. I didn't realize this until the glue fell and spilled wood shaving, mouse crap, and watery glue onto my shirt.

But guess what else Dad kept on his pathetic shelving? That's right, the staple gun. It happened to fall and clock me right in the head. At first I was knocked clean out, but I woke up just a little while ago and started feeling my head for knots or bumps or huge gaping holes.

Nothing nearly so dramatic was present. Nope, just a good ole' scalp staple.

You have no idea how much this hurts. I may just be lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling, but my head is throbbing. God, I think my eyes are going to pop out of my skull from the unexpected pressure of a a huge piece of metal forcibly penetrating my mind. It probably didn't help that I tried to pluck the staple out before I just started laying here. That just made it bleed worse, and I lost a big chunk of my hair.

Now all I have left to do is wait for my Sister to arrive. And you want to know the worst part? She's gonna arrive like she always arrives. She's gonna arrive cheerfully. She'll just come waltzing in the front door, six feet from the garage door, and she's gonna come looking for me. She always comes looking for me when she gets back from the library because she always has all the books I told her to get for me.

Looking back on that, I probably could have been a little nicer to the poor thing. She's gonna just freak when she sees me.

Meredith may be my Stepsister, but she's the closest thing I've ever had to a real Sister. Ever since she moved in, she's been a ray of sunshine. It's all smiles and rainbows with Meredith. And she's always trying to share her happiness anyway she can. My poor, sweet Sister. She can't make it through a funeral! Why, God, Why??

Whoops, forgot I'm an atheist.

Once more, I raise my hands to my scalp and start picking at the giant staple. It remains firmly stuck in my skin, but I give it a tug for good measure anyways.

Ouch! Man, it hurts! Nobody should have a head this sensitive.

Jesus, Buddha, anyone up there, I'm sorry. I know I should have done better by my friends and family. I shouldn't have tried to steal Dad's motorcycle. I shouldn't have stolen Meredith's cell phone and then broken it and blamed the dog. Hell, I should have owned a dog. Too many dogs die in shelters every day. If every citizen of this state alone donated just five dollars we'd have enough...

Wait, what am I saying? I don't give a damn about the animal shelters! I must be getting delusional. Shit. That must mean that the end is near.

Good-bye, cruel world!

Oh, I hear the front door opening.

One, two, three, four, five -

"What the Hell?!"

Here it comes.

Okay, so it turns out I didn't actually rupture my brain. The staple was only skin deep and an easy fix. And I didn't faint from blood loss, I fainted from panic.

I feel like an idiot.

Meredith found me, like I predicted. She had an ambulance and a SWAT team at the house within the hour. According to the paramedics, it took three huge doses of sedatives to calm her down. I should have remembered she was afraid of blood. Damnit. Maybe next time I should just call the ambulance instead of playing solitaire on my cell when I'm injured.

Well, at least they didn't figure out what I was trying to do when I moved that box. That would make the chewing-out I'm getting SOOO much worse.

"-And what, may I ask, were you trying to do when you moved that goddamned box?"