Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng

As I've mentioned before, we have a lot of servers to build.
The disaster recovery servers get un-boxed and racked and built and the shipping material is kept around for their eventual trip to Arizona.
Sometimes the shipping material is a tiny bit interesting.
In the side box containing the rack rails, there are little pieces of dense foam. I found one yesterday in the shape of . . . Iowa, maybe?
If Iowa were rendered in 4-bit graphics, anyway.
It is a mostly rectangular three-inch piece of white foam, with an indentation on one side and a small projection on the other.
There is no doubt it would do an admirable job of protecting server rails from all the evils to which shipping would subject them.
Upon finding this treasure, I did the only logical thing. I jumped out of the cubicle hallway and flung it at a co-worker as though it were a ninja throwing star.
Unfortunately, it flew about as well as any three-inch piece of foam would be expected to fly, spinning lazily off to the left before landing soundlessly on the carpet. The whole incident solicited a response from my intended target something along the lines of, "You are the worst and least deadly ninja ever."
This is probably true, but I made a silent vow then and there that it would not be for lack of proper assassination tools.
I quietly gathered my little foam rectangle and retreated to my lair to plot.
Looking around my desk for something, anything, to "deadly up" my weapon I started digging through the stuff left by whoever had this cubicle before me.
Usually, a person taking a new tech job can find a few paper clips, some half used-up pens in colors that are awful, and half-written documentation for servers and software that haven't been used by the company in over a year.
I found those things.
I also found a box cutter and some server rack screws.
With great care, I made tiny incisions on the long, flat edges of the foam.
Into these incisions, I implanted the heavy, zinc-plated rack screws.
A test throw sent back a satisfying "clack-bang-shuff" noise as the screw head hit the server room door and the foam flattened out and slid to the floor.
At last, I would have my revenge.
It helps that someone has spent all morning drilling through concrete on the 29th floor, drowning out ambient sound while evoking memories of being in the dentist's chair, heightening the feelings of paranoia of those around me. And those around me are my prey.
When the people upstairs drilled through some wiring and brought about a forced evacuation of the building, I chose to bide my time.
Backless shoes are no kind of ninja footwear, I'll admit. And standing in the literally freezing wind with the cold seeping in around my heels is less than pleasant.
But my weapon is ready.
My rack screw studded death foam hungers for the "Ow! Quit it!"of my enemy.
It will no longer be denied.