The possession I use the most is probably my pencil. I hate
having to use it, but I also can’t avoid it. I have a real knack for losing my
pencils
I can’t imagine that life as a pencil is very great. You
would have your face (or butt, I don’t really care to know which) rubbed into a
piece of paper all day, then shoved into a dark, tight pencil pouch or pocket
next to my fellow prisoners. I doubt it lives a very exciting life, but
whenever it does escape my grip, I’d bet that my pencil is on an adventure.
Once I lose a pencil, it’s usually gone forever. I wouldn’t be surprised if
there is a refugee camp for my former pencils somewhere. Just 20 of those guys
just huddled up in the hallway, praying that they aren’t discovered and forced
back into active service. Because pencils don’t retire. They are used until
they break down, and then immediately replaced by the new recruit.
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