I awoke this morning of heavy mind. Though my night’s rest had amounted to the perfunctory level of sleep demanded by a human body, the events of the day to come had taken their toll upon my resting psyche. In the waning hours of the preceding day, a sinister presence had invaded my living space, its cubic form the specter of labor future. As I gazed upon its shadowed visage, the cube, antagonized by the insolence of my resentful gaze, carried out a vicious attack upon my muddled mind. I would require supplies for the events ahead.
I moved warily to the supply room of my abode. The home was new to me. Having found it less than a fortnight prior, I had only made the journey onto its grounds two nights before. My supplies were in disarray – possibly as a result of the relocation, but I believed it more likely to be a sabotage by the presence whose shadowy tendrils crept from the adjacent room as I searched. I dug through towering piles of disorganized supplies until I found what I needed to steel my resolve: a powerful herb carried many miles from the southern continent by enterprising traders. I crafted from it a potion which served its purpose, replenishing my energies for the battle to come, the battle to rid myself of the presence of the infernal cube, to free myself from its crushing mental torment.
The cube resisted me at first. Over time I wore it down, cut through its defenses, and spilled its innards over the floor of my living space. Still, the presence remained, its overbearing aura foreboding hardly diminished. Clearly this cube was skilled in the black arts, to survive such ravages to its corporeal form.
The shadows darkened round the corners of the room as I toiled. I extracted a tome from within the gore, its language one from the old world across the great sea with which I was unfamiliar. Blast its cursed arcanity! I would not be dissuaded.
A light appeared in the gloom of my toil, as a contraption I recognized was unearthed from the remains of the cube. It was a small, metallic implement, meant for the joining of two separate components when assembling a construct. Its face was notched with the cross of the ancient church, a ward against evil. No doubt this is how it survived for so long within the horrific bowels of the wicked presence.
I applied a familiar tool to the implement, an elongated shank of tempered steel created by the order of Phillips. Its like have seen much use in my land, so I placed my faith in it easily and with little thought for possible consequences. My faith would be my downfall.
The presence reacted with an insidious, sedate response, countering my every effort with a subtle erosion of the implement. So subtle was this undermining that I took no notice until the implement had moved well past the point of any return; the implement was lost to the void, unrecoverable as it drowned in the open carcass of the cube.
It was a folly to rely on familiar, trusted tools in this time of darkness. Had I known the darkness ’til now perhaps I would have thought better than to lean on such truths as I thought I’d known. But I was a child of the light. It never occurred to my trusting mind that in whatever foul land this cube had been nascent that the order of Phillips might not have achieved such prominence. Its indecipherable, arcane texts may perhaps have been a clue, but I hadn’t thought to first research the methods of the old world in these affairs.
The presence infesting my home has expanded its domain now, gathering its strength to push further against my resolve. I have retreated for the time being, gathering new tools with which to resume battle against its wicked implements. I pray that I may drive this presence swiftly from my abode, before it amasses the power to usher in the return of the Great Old Ones.
If a̡͖̺̲̯̣̱͢n̢͉̬̘̣͍̲̦͟͠yone should he̶͎̲͠a̧̜͎̪̪̰͉̟̱͘r̨̛͕͍͉̫̰̟̖̘ my cry for h̴̜̀è̤̰̱̩̯̝ͅl̵̖͘͞ͅṕ̰̣̘̙̣͚̲̙͜͠, I beseech you to send aid̨̥͉̙͞͡ ̭̩͎w̧͔͈̱͚͡͝i̢̺̤̬̝t̷̴̠̬͈̩̻h̥͔̦̱͘ͅ ̠̟̟͓̻̹̪͜ͅṱ̴̮̯̹̙̮͎͓ͅḩ̤e utmost exigence.T͓̞̩̠h̕҉͉e̠̗͔̟̣̻̰ ̺̟̀͝h҉̲̟̳͖̭o̡̙̼̝͝u̟͇̝͚̙̰ṟ͕̞̥̪̗ ̶̗̰̰̕d̲̰͔̭̪͝r̶̪̖̲͓͔̝̰̣͘a̡̧̦w͎̭̗͕̥͍̠͙s͎͙̤͟͞ ̴̢͈̯͍c̥͍͙̤̦͈̫͡͝l̝̞ͅo̰̮̰̠̠̖s̺ͅe̸̙̹͉͇̻͍͕̞̠r̼̻̕ ̷̡̛͕̪̻̦f҉̭̺o͇̺̱̲͎͝r̴̢͚̱̘͔͔̲̥̣͡ ̢̨͓̖̬͚͇ͅͅt̢̟̳̰̘̖̝h̡̰̞̤̙̮̮͠ͅe̪͎̜͍͠ ̺̼̱͉e̡̧̜̲n̴̮͙̰̙̺͖̥̖d̶̛̙̹͈̯̞̱̥ ̗̪̜̳̗̜͇͘͢o̥̗̫̰̪͖f͏҉̗̤̗͔̪͓ ̗̯̗̜̣̞̙̪̫͢a̳̙͕͝l̩̞̯͇͔̟l̴͙̳̜͚͚͖̝ ̭͖̬̠͇̬̦̘͞ḓ̨̜̻̪͙́a̷̡̩̺̟̲̮͖͇̠͈͡y̖̩̘̼s̬̠̹̙͚͔͉͞.͍̲̩̮̬͝͡͝ͅ ̲̥͍̱̣̥͓̱͢͡T͉̬̮h̸̻͈̬͍͔̲̩e̵҉͚͚ ̸̗̳̭̭͖̹̠̝͘p̧̻̠͍͓͈̬̯̰͚͟r̦̝̙̤̜͢e̴̸̖͚̫̤̮͍͎s̷̲̗̲͖̗͙̲͞e̡̜̗͖ņ̵͇̦̮͓̮̩̟̹ç̺̤̗̩̭̜̰̀͢è̺̬͕ ̵̱͔̟̫͡m̧̘̗͢u̷̗̣̗͈̖͉s̨͏͎͉̰̤̥͈̜̪t̳̼̣͚̬͕ ̛̮͔b̴̩̫͠e̵̟̟͕͚͞ ̢͖̗̮́s͎͈̠̻̩͔͟t̶̬͚̲̮̹͎̥̩́o̫̬͞p͏͍͎͞p̝̠̗̝͟e̸̜̕d̖̠̼̩̺̦.̶̹̗̦̘͘͠ ̪͔͈̗̗T̻͔̣̟̯̪ḩ̘́ẹ͓̺̟̞̣̀͘ ̛̦̲͇̯̞c̷̬͖̥͖̫̬̝͠u͏̜̤͙͉͎̪͝b͟҉̬̭̫̲e̙͕̲̞̻̲̠͟ ͓͓͔̟̯̪̬̕͠m͏͏͖͙̭̩̪̼͍ư̢̜͚̬̟̺͈̘s̥̮̻̦͕̗̝̜͘ͅt̥̤͓̯͢ ̘̞̲̱͉͢͡b̷҉͎͇͓͢e̡̜̺̙͙͖̗͝͠ ̼͈̖͈̹̕͝c̺͓̩͚͞ĺ̸̥̣͉͉̗͈̳͢e̤̭̘͉̙̝͉͓̘͞a͘͏̝̬̼n͖̥̱̜̯̭͡s̩̥̦͇ͅè̜̰̮̼̥̤͕̞d̲͎͉̟̘ ̶͓̫̺f͈̝̗͢r̵̤̳͇͎̟̖ͅo̩m̼͖̖̭ ̷̤t̤̠̖̗̪͜͟h̗͔̠̣͘e̴̯̩̫͖̬̝ś̪͕̟͕͘e̴̛͈̝͢ ͍̟̯̱̳̗̟͜͜ḻ̲̖͚͎͓̳͔̮́a̧̱̦͔͈͓̬̕ṋ̨̖͈d̖̖̮̲̳͉͚͔s̖̫̮̼͔̰̖̳͞ͅ.̢͏̘̥͚͉̤̪ͅ Q̯͓̖̺u̶̗ì͕̲̤̱͉̜̬͝c̨̢͙̳k̡̺̜̱l͎̻͜ý̴̟̪̣̖̺̥͎̣ ͓̦̙͞-͡͏̝̪̬͖̥͈ ̶̰̗H͏̶͔̰͇͠E͏̵͏̟̙͎̣̦̩̻͉ ̷̼̲̞̩͠C̷̢͔̯̼̪O̩̺ͅM̷͏̺̼͎E҉̴̫͙͖̖̟̺͕̫Ṣ̱͈!͘͏̙̜͖̼͔̗͕ͅ
TL;DR: Did you know that Ikea uses something called a “Posidriv” screw? It looks very similar to a Phillips screw, only using a Phillips screwdriver will completely round it out. Seriously though, look at how similar these pieces of crap are.
Now sure, you can probably get by with a Phillips most of the time. That was not my experience today. When the going gets tough and you have to really work to screw something in, the Phillips will ruin the screw. To make matters worse, it’s not easy to find a Posidriv screwdriver in the United States. Home Depot doesn’t carry them at all.
When I asked customer service at Ikea for one, the guy handed me a Phillips (though he did give me free replacement screws, so I’m still relatively satisfied).
Fortunately, I found a $10 electric screwdriver that should get the job done while I was at the store, so as soon as I’m done procrastinating here, I’ll get back to it and vanquish “the presence”.
These damn commie screws must be stopped.