text: W While I nodded quickly typing, suddenly there came a tapping. As if someone gently rapping, rapping underneath my keyboard. “Some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my keys-” “Shut the fuck up!” spoke a small man on a latter peeping through the W key. He wore an orange hard hat and vest over a long white shirt and black tie. “Why hello,” I uttered quite startled by his appearance “am I bothering you, sir?” “The absolute nerve of this guy!” he yelled below the W. Followed by an eruption of cheers and laughter. “This dipshit wants to know if his typing is bothering us? You know what pal; no, you go right ahead and keep it up. We absolutely ***love*** when you do that shit. It’s not like a giant finger constantly pounding over your head hurts or anything.” the small man began to slowly climb back down his ladder. H Half a minute after the small man descended into the W once more, I sat to ponder the metaphysical consequences of small people in my key. The entire reality in which I had lived was turned completely upside-down within a moment. And when that minute was up, I continued my task. But no more than a letter was finished when there came a small man through the H key. “Hey, asshole!? What the hell did I just tell you!?” the small man spoke, skipping the nicety of a knock. “Hello sir, I had made a clear effort to avoid your W.” I smiled, assuming the confusion had been settled. “Oh thank you that makes me feel so much better. No fuckface! You keep drumming those sausages and we’ll have some issues! Keep your fucking shit to yourself we’re trying to sleep!” and with that, the small man shuffled down his latter once more. I I sat, staring at my keys. Looking for all clues to the uninhabited characters. When my eyes passed over the letter I my fingers reached to connect my thoughts to paper when the small man popped out. “You fucking piece of shit what the fuck are you thinking!? Three fucking times I’ve had to tell you to stop I’m fucking tired man!” a crowd groaned from under the I “I’m sorry sir, I was not aware you people were so prevalent in my keys?” “You people!?” he leaned back, and a loud gasp was brought after from the small people in my keys. “I apologize. You have my word I will not make any more strokes. Your home is safe from my creative process.” I reached my hand for him to shake on our deal. “Oh, so now that you know we’re here you’ll behave yourself? You know what, no! Fuck you, you judgmental piece of shit. Fucking type you mother fucker!” his face grew red. His crowd seemed to agree. “I just thought that-” “You just thought that what? We’d settle for your middle-of-the-road fairytale compromise? No act like a fucking man and type you piece of shit!” “But you said-” “Oh, so now that I’m calling you out on your bullshit you care? No, I ***want*** you to type. So, you can know just how much of a fucking prick you are!” and with that, he slammed my I shut. I sat thinking for a moment when. “I said fucking type already!” the small man called through the L. And so, after a quick reread of what I already wrote, I continued. ***While I nodded quickly typing, suddenly there came a tapping. As if someone gently rapping, rapping underneath my keyboard.