I was born. I suffered.
I suffered some more, and hopefully,
I won't die a painful death.
This is my life.

The Old Man and the engraving tool

A long time ago there was a brilliant old man called The Old Man. The Old Man had many inventions and unique ways to do things. From cut-in-half propane tanks as pool side ashtrays, to milk carton crate tool carriers, he was the shit. One day The Old Man came home with an electric engraver. No doubt, he bartered for it by wiring someone's whole house. I can only assume that he thought having his John Hancock scrawled on everything he owned would prevent burglars from cleaning him out.

All true
Without warning, The Old Man proceeded to haul in every tool from his work van. There he stood all night long beaming with pride while the immense noise of the engraver carved his full legal name into every hand tool. Pliers, side cutters, hammers, power drills, measuring tape, screwdrivers, nut drivers, Minnie Driver, razor knives, pocket knives, flashlights, anything that wasn't nailed down got his electric-powered signature.

Well The Old Man must have loved that feeling of putting his mark on everything he touched. I guess that's why he impregnated The Old Lady so many times. Idiot. He also had a few of those massive silver dollars that he drilled holes into and used as key chain anchors. He engraved the fuck out of them too.

Now that The Old Man has long since retired into the lap of luxury, and all of his tools have disappeared. If you are using a pair of needle-nose pliers right now with his name scratched into them, please return them. No questions asked. Bring back The Old Man some of his dignity.