I got a lot of plot bunnies clogging my brain, and I figure I might as well get them down. Danny really is a good source of humour. I will start a Fillmore crime fiction with my OC being in a starring role, but I have to finish a few of my other stories first. I just wondered what event lead to Danny not qualified to handle a stapler. Anyways, I do not own Fillmore.

The Stapler Incident

Vallejo groaned at the stack of papers on his desk. He hated paperwork. But the best part of being Junior Commissioner was that you could pass down the small jobs you didn't want to do. Glancing out the window and wincing at the crash, he knew exactly who would be doing his paperwork. Vallejo stepped out of his office and into the HQ with a stack of papers in his hands. Danny O'Farrell lay on the floor, tangled in his camera film strips.

"Please tell me nothing important was on those."

"Er, not really."

Shaking his head, Vallejo dropped the papers on Danny's desk and helped the red-head up. "I want this paperwork done by the end of the day, got it?"

"But that only gives me an hour!" Danny protested.

"Then I suggest you get moving. Staple the C papers together for me, will you? Oh, and leave the D papers on Third's desk." Danny watched in dismay as his boss stalked back into his office. Turning to Tehama, he held the stack high.

"What am I supposed to do with the A and B papers?"

Tehama gestured towards the metal cabinets lining the back wall. "File them, of course."

Slumping in his seat, he picked up a pen and began checking things off. He stacked the papers in order and rubbed his sore wrist. Glancing at the clock, he paled when he noticed he only had twenty minutes left. Picking up the A and B stacks; he rushed over to the filing cabinets. He scowled. What kind of person didn't put labels on file cabinets?

"Fillmore..."

Fillmore glanced up from his computer. "What is it, O'Farrell?"

"Where do the A and B's go?"

"Before the C's and D's."

"I know that! But which cabinet do they go in?"

Fillmore pointed to the last one in the row. Danny yanked the drawer open and crammed the papers in. Jogging back to his desk, he yelped as he tripped over his laces and knocked the D's off his desk. Groaning, he quickly gathered them up and dropped them on Ingrid's desk. He looked at the clock. Ten minutes left! Grabbing the C papers, he glanced around and nearly shouted. "Tehama! Where-"He shot a hand out and caught the stapler. Tehama rolled her eyes and went back to finishing up her report. Danny frowned in concentration as he stapled two papers together at a time. Sucking on the finger he accidently stapled, he shoved the finished ones aside and reached for the last two. Five minutes left! He stapled the last sheets and nearly passed out when he discovered the thing was jammed.

"Ah man!" Prying it open, he used a pencil to get the bent staple out of the front. The pencil broke in half, and Danny began slapping the top frantically.

"Come on!" He held the stapler above his head and slapped it again with all his might. A victory yell escaped him as the bent staple shot out the tip. A cry of fear escaped him as he and every other officer in the HQ dove under their desks as the staple hit the light fixture overhead and smashed through the glass. The shattered pieces rained down and the lights sparked.

"Danny!" Anza snapped, drawing his hand back from a shower of sparks.

"Sorry! It wouldn't come out!" Danny wailed and winced as a door slammed open.

"WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON? WHO BROKE THE LIGHTS?" Vallejo shouted, keeping inside the doorway and watching in disbelief as sparks and glass fell down. He glared at his officers taking refuge under their desks.

"It wasn't me!" Fillmore protested. Danny waved the stapler under the desk.

"My bad! Sorry! It wouldn't work, and you said I had only an hour to finish it, and-"He let out a yelp as the lights went out completely, rendering the HQ pitch black. Hesitantly climbing out from under their desks, the officers grumbled as they groped about, looking for the door. Danny snuck out as quietly as he could, wincing when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"O'Farrell?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You are no longer allowed to touch the stapler. And you're on desk duty until the new lights come in. Are we clear?"

Danny groaned. "Yeah, crystal clear."

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