'That has got to be the biggest stapler I have ever seen!' Norma exclaimed.
'I had to have it made to order,' Bertha replied. 'I would have made it myself but my welding equipment's broken. Now, if you and Horace could stand by on the ropes until I say when.'
So Norma and Horace stood ready until Bertha shouted 'Now!' and then they pulled with all their might, which in Horace's case wasn't an awful lot, and the stapler slid graciously out of the shipping container.
'Can I go now?' Horace asked.
Norma's horns fell. 'I thought, she said, 'that we'd agreed to have lunch together?'
'It's just,' Horace replied, 'after you told me about Captain Bill's marquee, I thought I might go and stand in it for a while.'
'Why?' Norma asked.
'It sounds depressing,' Horace replied.
'But,' Norma began, but she could see that Horace had a point. '.............if you must!'
'If I get any ideas about how to continue the poem I could tell you about them later,' Horace suggested.
'I suppose so,' Norma sighed and she watched as Horace wandered away.
'If you have a moment?' Bertha asked.
'I think I have several,' Norma replied.
'I just want to get the staples out of the container.' Bertha explained.
Unsurprisingly, given the size of the stapler, the boxes of staples turned out to be rather large and very heavy and it took one on each end to get them out and there were lots of them...lots and lots and lots.
'7,495' Bertha said, in reply to Norma's inquiry.
A reply which, for some reason, didn't surprise Norma one little bit.
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