Sting

It would seem I was right.  I got to work bright and early this morning, and the third shift sub brazer hadn't showed up.  I guess I'll be going in early for a while. 

You know, I have good intentions.  I stand there at work, just a working away, making all these plans to do this and that when I get home.  Today, I was going to see if I could split some wood with Mjolnir and my new splitting wedge, and maybe start clearing some of the plants and stuff away from my back fence. 

In the end, all I got done was to get the machete out of the package. 

That in itself was quite the task.  Nevertheless, I persevered and managed to get the machete free from the plastic...whereupon said machete promptly declared its name to be Sting. 

"You're not a sword," I said.

"This is America," the machete replied, "the land of opportunity.  With hard work and determination, I can become anything I want to be.  The American Dream, and all that.  Therefore, I am a sword." 

"But I don't need a sword," I replied.  "I need a machete." 

"Oh, very well, I'll be a machete, but I'm still calling myself Sting."

And that is how a humble machete came to be known as Sting. 

Clearly, I don't get enough sleep.