OSAN AIR BASE, South Korea – US Air Force Tech. Sgt. William Kilgore “loves the smell of toner in the morning,” sources told Duffel Blog today.
Kilgore, assigned to the 51st Fighter Wing’s Logistics Readiness Squadron, is regarded by colleagues and superiors alike as a “reckless desk jockey,” often completing his assigned tasks at the expense of hundreds of toner cartridges.
According to Senior Airman Charles “Chef” Yates, the “brash, eccentric office cowboy” puts on several pots of coffee each day, precisely at 0745, 1045 and 1415, all the while humming “Ride of the Valkyries.”
Sources also disclosed that the operatic anthem underscores Kilgore’s daily bowel movement at 0910.
“I thought [Kilgore] was a little odd when he cornered me and asked if I liked to web surf,” said Yates. “I knew he was bat-shit insane when he kicked over his chair at the last Cyber Awareness Training brief and shouted, ‘You can either web surf, or you can fight!’ before charging out, yelling, ‘To the Keurig!’”
Kilgore, who has bumper stickers that say “We Are the ADMINfantry!” and “Charlie Don’t Collate” prominently displayed on his desk, claims to have engaged tens of thousands of reports, memoranda, and FOUO documents at the office’s Xerox WorkCentre 3615/DN. He also claims he can “field strip” and reassemble the machine blindfolded in under seven minutes.
“How many copies have I made? There were those six thousand that I know about for sure,” he said. “I made those photocopies. What the hell else was I gonna do?”
Underlying his quirks and maniacal tendencies, medical professionals speculate that Kilgore suffers from extreme PTSD – or Printer Toner Sniffing Dependency – which may have manifested as early as Kilgore’s freshman year of high school, when he first joined the Yearbook Club.
“Disneyland? Fuck, man, this place is better than Disneyland!” the peculiar, staple-slinging renegade was overheard exclaiming.
Indeed, Kilgore’s olfactory fascination with the acrid pungency of styrene-acrylate copolymer is so engrained, subordinates maintain, that he often hovers wordlessly over the shoulders of fellow airmen at the copy machine, breathing in deeply with a blissful, dreamy gaze, much to their discomfort.
Still, the office is not without crisis, and the melodic hum of the Xerox at work is harshly interrupted from time to time by the jarring sounds of a misfeed.
“I’ve seen paper jams … paper jams you’ve seen,” Kilgore said. “But you have no right to call tech support.”
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