~ Twisted ~
A/N Ever notice the bowl of paperclips showing up in episodes of MacGyver... a story from their POV
I wake with movement. It's dark, but dry and crowded wherever I am. I can't seem to move my arms, but then I remember … don't have any.
Light starts filtering in, as the lid opens and I realize, I'm in a box with a number of metal coils that resemble me. We could be twins, quadruplets, even centuplets. I ignore the others and wait patiently to be pulled from the package, but I'm still there when darkness returns. It doesn't seem as jammed now. Others must have been pulled out and used. Guess it must not be my turn yet.
Not one to twiddle my thumbs, never could since I don't have them, I wondered how I will be used this time. This is not my first rodeo, but the last time I was shuffled around, some jerk from accounting left me on confidential pages tagged to be shredded. Only the quick reaction from a mail room clerk saved me from a horrible fate. I still shudder as the thought of what might have happened, only seconds later, runs through my taut coil.
The other residents of the box think I'm narcissistic, and maybe they're right, I do enjoy admiring my perfect form. I'm still tight and supple despite the number of workouts I've been given. Like that horizontally-enlarged human in legal, he thought he could use me on a stack of 50-sheets. Guess despite all that framed paper on the walls he couldn't read, as the box clearly stated, holds up to twenty-sheets. Well, I showed him. I escaped by springing into the next guy's cubicle. Thinking nothing of it, he simply placed me in another box, which he returned to the supply cabinet.
Guess I must've dozed off again, seems like all I do these days. But then not much else to do when packaged with clones competing with you for every job. Maybe the next time the box is opened, I'll be allowed out for a stretch… my wire is getting a little cramped in here.
The cover is coming off and I'm being shook … it's an earthquake!
I fall and land in a bowl. Fortunately, cushioned by a hoard of jealous wannabees, I escaped damage. But I still really need to stretch, the kinks in my coils are getting painful.
I sense the touch of a warm finger as it grasps and caresses me. Ahh what a great massage…I'm in Heaven… as the firm digits softly stroke my body.
Suddenly, without warning, I'm being torn apart. No longer a clip of tight, concentrically spiraled wire, I began to resemble the letter S. "No more," I implored, but it was too late. As each of my coils continued to be loosened and manipulated into unnatural lines, angles and shapes, I recognize the calloused fingers transforming me into what?
There are no answers for our stalwart fastener. Moments later MacGyver lays a new metal sculpture on the round table in the conference room.
A/N2 Want to thank missblueeyes63 and the kenyancougar for their support and help.