Frankenstein complex

I've created a monster.

Well, you asked for springs and springs I have delivered.
There may actually be a risk that some of them are too strong, and may not compress under the weight of the phone. Luckily, I'm clever enough to know what to do about that, but we'll have to wait and see.

When I made these things, my heart went out to the poor chap who designed the parts. Hours upon hours of his life went into choosing these particular springs. He dreamed about ways to minimize the cost of materials and the amount of effort that went into each one. He studied what springs would suffice until the phone warranty expired. He probably studied the various responses of springs under pressure, heck, he probably researched what people found to be the most satisfying end-of-conversation phone cradling experience. These springs were someone's life. I bet he has an eerie shiver crawling up his spine that he just can't quite place, caused by some uppity punk high schooler screwing with his life's work. Poor guy.

You people confuse me. The original phone parts couldn't have cost more than half a penny to make. And yet, you choose to ask me to make them.
You reintroduced humans into the creation of an object, meaning that each and every one of these springs was manipulated and drawn and stretched until it was just so, carefully ground, made of high quality material, and every one of them actually had to have thought and instinct applied to their creation. I might have just as well gnawed the pieces apart. This is the antithesis of progress.

I'm quite certain that you are all going to go to manufacturing inefficiency hell.

Ode to Pest

You have hateful eyes,
you watcher,
you hell-being sentinel.
You are soulless
and dead.
I know that you are
watching me, waiting for
a slight misstep
to launch
your attack on me.
Futile swipes at empty air.
I hope you die,
you goddamn cat.
You are fuzzy and would make nice gloves