The shredder and me

I used to think that I had a sadistic streak in me that I wasn't afraid of showing. I love setting paper on fire, shredding my notes to oblivion, and tearing things up. The coward in me must commence those acts with only legal and legitimate reasons of course.

The other day, when I finally found the office shredder empty enough, I decided to take the liberty to shred away my waste paper for the day. But by the time I put in the second or third piece of ultra-confidential information, watching it quiver helplessly down the mouth of the mechanical shredder, I suddenly felt shy of my delight in episodes of destruction.

In the end, the remaining lot got deposited into the confidential waste bin, whole.