Stapler Amnesty Day

A sad little BREAKROOM. Fluorescents. A crooked “SNACK TABLE GUIDELINES” memo taped like a constitution.

The MICROWAVE BEEPS. PRIYA stands inches from it like a bouncer. Inside: nothing.

OWEN enters carrying a TUPPERWARE labeled “SALMON (DO NOT JUDGE).” He clocks Priya’s stance.

DANA sits at the snack table with a STAPLER like a gavel. MARCUS leans on the counter, sipping coffee, observing like a smug correspondent.

Breakroom Republic, Day… two-ish. Motion on the floor: Owen Kline requests a ban on “fish lunches of notable aroma.”

Not “aroma.” A smell that violates the Geneva Convention.

I move to recognize that “notable” is subjective and that Owen is weaponizing adjectives.

I’m weaponizing my nose.

Speaker recognizes Priya. You have the floor.

Thank you, Madam Interim Speaker. I will be filibustering this motion by… using the microwave.

She presses START. The empty microwave HUMS. Everyone watches.

In municipal government, nothing stops time like an appliance you can’t argue with.

The microwave DINGS. Priya immediately presses START again.

You can’t just— there’s no food in there.

Procedure doesn’t require food. Only time.

Wait— is that true?

It’s a beautiful gray area.

This is tyranny with a digital clock.

Priya smiles, unwavering. Another DING. Another START.

OWEN steps toward the microwave, Tupperware raised like evidence.

OWEN (CONT'D)

I have lunch. I have rights. I have—

Point of personal privilege: I can smell your “rights.”

Okay, okay— order. Priya, how long is this… microwave thing?

Until this Republic stops legislating based on Owen’s delicate little sinuses.

Or until Facilities notices we’re repeatedly microwaving… air.

Priya presses START again, faster now, like a pianist.

Dana’s eyes dart between Owen and Priya like a tennis match.

This motion has popular support. People fear fish.

I’m… not “fearful.” I’m… cautious.

Cautious is fear with a college degree.

Marcus.

Madam Speaker.

The microwave DINGS again. Priya hits START.

This isn’t democracy. This is hostage negotiation.

Correct. Negotiate.

Owen turns to Dana, pleading.

Speaker Serrano, call the question. End debate.

I can’t “call the question” if the question is being… microwaved.

Actually, there’s a loophole.

Priya pauses, suspicious. Owen perks up.

MARCUS (CONT'D)

If the motion is about banning fish lunches… then it only applies to lunches.

Beat.

MARCUS (CONT'D)

So, Owen can reintroduce it as a “fish *meal* prohibition,” which would cover breakfast, lunch, dinner, and— crucially— “snacks.”

Dana looks at the snack table. Priya looks at the snack table. Owen looks at the snack table like he just found a weapon.

Snacks.

No.

Wait, would that mean—

Every tuna packet. Every seaweed crisp. Every… shrimp chip.

Dana reflexively reaches for a bag of SEAWEED SNACKS, guilty.

I don’t even like these. They just make me feel… efficient.

Fine. New motion: A comprehensive aquatic edibles ban.

PRIYA slams START again, panicked.

I object! This is an expansion of scope!

Scope expansions are bipartisan. Like potholes.

The microwave HUMS. Priya’s filibuster speeds up— DING, START, DING, START.

You’re going to burn it out.

Good. Then no one can heat anything. Equality.

That’s… horrifyingly fair.

The microwave SUDDENLY STOPS. Dead. Silence.

Everyone freezes.

A beat.

Well.

You killed the microwave.

I didn’t kill it. I adjourned it.

Okay. Without a microwave, we… can’t lunch.

OWEN opens his salmon. The smell immediately hits the room like a fog machine.

Dana’s face twitches. Marcus’s eyes water. Priya goes pale.

That’s not lunch. That’s a maritime incident.

I… rescind my filibuster.

Too late. The Republic has entered… a post-microwave era.

Dana stands, stapler-gavel raised, overwhelmed.

New emergency session. First agenda item: How to un-smell.

The door swings open. An unseen COWORKER (O.S.) calls out, disgusted.

COWORKER (O.S.)

Who microwaved FISH?!

They all look at the dead microwave.

This is why constitutions matter.