Father attempts to slam hands down, but the degenerated muscles in his fingers start to burn and rip as he makes to flatten his hands out of their permanent lobster claw caused by emacs’ key bindings’ repetitive stress damage.
The rods of iron in his forearm provide hot jolts up his forearm.
Defeated, he calls for his typist and asks them to slam the table top for him.
They do not hurry and he falls to the ground, weeping, a defeated shell.
Son has already made edit, committed it, and pushed to production and is out the door.