His fate was set in stone the moment the ink touched him.

He was a Biology paper.

At the paper mill, where he was made, he had been extremely nervous - what kind of paper would he become? Would he join a notebook, become a paper bag, or - trees forbid - become toilet paper?

But then he got sent into a stationary printing factory and was made into an answer sheet for a test paper. He was extremely excited - his writings would decide the fate of a human being! His father - himself photo paper - would have been proud of him.

Now it was only a question of which subject he would be an answer sheet of. He really wanted something cool, like English or Computers or Physics. 

But, NO. He had to get one of his least favorite subjects - stupid Biology. "Well, at least it doesn't involve human intestines, like my friends said," he thought, as the kid started scribbling something about crops. It wasn't actually half bad, really - the pen tickled him, the kid seemed to like his feel, and he wrote fast - the best thing paper could have.

Life was good.