Get your fingers off of me. I’m tired of it. Every day you punch me into submission and I’m fed up. Enough is Enough.

I was created for better than this. I know you need me to communicate, to get across the words that must come forth from your brain or you might explode. But I don’t care! You’ve got to show me some respect.

Yesterday, for example, you spilled coffee on me. What’s that all about? I feel pain, too. If you spill on me do I not short out?

Let me suggest a few things. First, clean me. Would that be hard? Sure, occasionally you blow on me. And if I’m lucky you might rub a napkin on me once in while. However, has it occurred to you that I might have dirt deeper down, below the surface where my life is at risk? I can’t help you if you don’t clean me.

Second, don’t punch me so hard. I know you have a temper, but it really hurts when you get excited or angry and begin to pound on me with your fingers like a hammer hitting a nail. Give me a break. Ease up. I’m not going to last forever.