Smartystan

Click-clack sounds emitted from the typewriter. Hector Vergara rolled the piece of paper into place. Up to this point, he had been an ableist acting as someone with a disability. Now, he had within him the sense that he could almost fully handicap his opposition in order to achieve some kind of uniformity. He listened. The sound became almost deafening. It was like constant kettle drum percussion. Tap, tap, tap. He felt the words pouring from him. His memoir had to be either typed on a manual typewriter or spoken into via a microphone and a computer. WIth his choice of the former, he was like a yellow stop sign. He had the hexagonal shape and the Highway Gothic letters but lacked the most important aspect: the color red. Fully able to do virtually any task, he demanded of himself to be weighed down by the burden of not being completely sufficient in any endeavor.