Part 1a
Hello? Hellooooo! Anyone out there?
Humph. I guess not.
I wish they'd hurry up and unpack us.
Fresh out of the factory, that's what I am. Sleek cylindrical body. A rubbery pink head attached with a golden crown. A ribbon of graphite running through my middle. Yup, this is a thing of beauty right here. A brand new pencil.
I am destined for greatness.
I'm just chillin' here with my 11 bros. We're all in the same pack, y'see. In the same pack, stacked with a bunch of other packs in a cardboard box, biding our time until we are released into that great wonderful world.
I'm going to go places. Yup. I've got big dreams.
I heard tell of these people called authors. They use pencils to write long, long books. Could you imagine? I could write a book! And then when the authors die, the book lives on. People read it sometimes 100 years later. Sometimes the books become "classics" and people talk about them and give them as gifts and, get this, sometimes they even make movies out of the books the authors wrote!
And what did those authors use? That's right, a pencil!
That's what I want to do! I want to write a book that's made into a movie. Hollywood, here I come!
Oh, oh, and then there are these other people called poets. They write rhymes and whatnot about nature and feelings. Sometimes what they write are made into songs that people sing into microphones and that are then recorded. People ALL OVER THE WORLD listen to those songs.
I want to write a song! A thousand people bee-boppin' to a tune that I helped write--a pencil's dream.
That's what I want. I want to do something BIG! I want it so bad, you can't imagine.
Oh, and sometimes poets write mushy poems that are used in love letters and make people cry happy tears. To have that power to make someone cry happy tears! I want to do that too!
What are happy tears anyway? It must be something amazing because it doesn't make any sense.
I've got dreams, man, I've got dreams. I'm goin' places and doin' important things.
You might ask how I know about the world out there. I mean, after all, I am fresh out of the factory. It's not like I got any real life experience. Well, people talk. I guess some people write. And write. And write. And write. (Sorry, got a little dreamy there). But other people talk. And that's where an attentive pencil like me picks up on things. I wouldn't say I'm the sharpest pencil in my pack, but I have been able to gather quite a bit of intel about the potential a pencil like me has.
Oh, you know what else would be cool? I could be an artist's pencil and make sketches. I heard all about sketches. They sound magical. At first there is nothing, right? Just a white sheet of paper. And then, the artist moves a pencil across the page, and still, all you see is some graphite scribblings. But the artist keeps moving the pencil, and all of a sudden something real takes shape--an outline, a shadow--until it's obvious she's drawing a face.
I could literally fall into the hands of the next Tennyson, DaVinci, or Dickenson.
Someone bust me out of this cardboard box and put me on the shelves! I don't want to wait anymore!
Wait, you hear that? Someone is coming up to my box.
Hey! That's an Exacto knife cutting through the packing tape.
Light! I see light!
A hand is grabbing me and picking me up!
My future! It has come!
Happy tears! I know what they are now!
I am going to do great things. I know it!
You know why?
Because I'm a fresh new pencil.
Part 1b
I'm depressed.
So apparently if you are the first out of the box, you're the first on the shelf. Sounds good, right? Except that means a million other boxes go in front of you. Yes, a million. I've studied up on authors and something called "figurative language" while I've sat here for the last hundred thousand years waiting to be bought. When I say a "million" other boxes are in front of me or that I've been sitting here for a "hundred thousand years," I'm using "hyperbole." Authors use hyperbole. I'm just studying up so I can be the best pencil I can be.
Anyway, since I'm in the back (far in the back where the dust accumulates like eraser shavings on an author's desk--that's called a "simile." More figurative language!), when the next Dr. Seuss or John Milton comes to load up on pencils, everyone else gets picked first and I get left behind.
Behind, behind
Alone and behind
Ignored and alone
Alone and behind.
Never chosen
Never seen
I just wish someone
Would pick on me.
*Sigh*
But I know I'm young and fine. Fresh out of the factory, that's me. That is, I was fresh until someone put me here to SIT USELESS.
My barrel is clean and glossy. My rubber head is perfectly formed and unused. There's nothing wrong with me.
There's nothing wrong with me, right?
Is there?
Maybe my barrel edges are too soft. Are they supposed to be pointy? No, surely not. Then I'd hurt people when they hold me.
Maybe I'm shaped weird. Pencil barrels are supposed to be hexagons. Oh no! Was I made with not enough sides? I'll count them. 1, 2, 3--yeah, I have six sides. Good, I'm normal.
I'm normal. I'm normal! Right?
Someone, please tell me I'm normal.
I wouldn't believe them even if they told me. They would just be trying to make me feel better. They wouldn't know what it's like to be invisible.
Why was I even brought here just to collect dust?
What is the point of me?
Ha. Haha. Point. Get it? Point? I'm a pencil with a point? Haha.
Hahaha! I just got it! Haha!
Whoah! Who's that?
It's me.
No, it's definitely not me.
Hehe, oh you're so funny. It's me. Right next to you. Your pencil pack buddy.
Oh! Oh, that's weird. That's really really weird.
What's weird?
A pencil talking.
But you've been talking for the last 10 days.
You mean you've heard all that junk I've been rambling on about?
Of course. You didn't think no one was listening, did you?
Well, you know what they say about a tree falling in a forest if no one is around.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
Hm.
So hey, what's your name?
My name?
Yeah, my name's Florence. I mean, it's not like anyone named me Florence because of course I'm just a pencil, and pencil's don't have names. At least not when they're right out of the factory. Did you know you say "fresh out of the factory" quite a bit? You do. Not that I mind, because it's true. But anyway, what is your name? Have you named yourself yet?
Brain. does. not. compute.
What's the matter, Notoo?
How on earth are we even having this conversation?
Oh silly, Notoo, if you can talk, surely I can!
Why are you calling me "Notoo"?
Oh that! Well, you have "No. 2" on the side of your barrel. I just thought it would be fun to call you "Notoo." Dear me, you don't mind, do you?
I-- I--
Please say you're not offended? I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted you to have a name like me.
I have a name!
Hehe, yes you do.
I have a name! I didn't even know I needed a name! But I did! I do! I have a name!
Notoo!
That's me! Florence, you named me!
I did. Do you like it?
It's magnanimous!
I think you mean magnificent, Notoo.
You are so magnanimous to give me a name. My very own name. I won't forget you, Florence. Not til my last scribble.
Why, I hope not. After all, we're in the same pack. We'll probably end up in the same place together.
You named me! I was nothing. A nameless pencil amid a sea of pencils--not a literal sea--that's author talk again--I was a nameless pencil amid a sea of pencils, on the back of a shelf, among numberless shelves in a huge office supply store. And you looked at me--
Well, I heard you.
You saw me--
Without actual eyes, of course.
--and you named me! I was nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just one in a mass of wooden tubes.
I think you're reading into this a little more than I meant it.
No, you gave me meaning in a meaningless world! Purpose in a purposeless world!
A point in a pointless world!
Yes! Yes! YES!
I really think you've been on the back of this shelf too long.
You're missing the point!
Is that a pun again?
I am not alone. I've got a name, and I'm not alone! We're going to do amazing things together, you and me, Florence. We're going to take this world by storm. We're going to write things. Amazing things. We're going to make people cry. Happy tears, Florence, happy tears! Stick with me, kid, and we'll go places!
Um, Notoo?
Yeah?
We're still sitting on a shelf.
I know.
Ok, just so long as you know.
Hahaha! I just got it! Haha!
Whoah! Who's that?
It's me.
No, it's definitely not me.
Hehe, oh you're so funny. It's me. Right next to you. Your pencil pack buddy.
Oh! Oh, that's weird. That's really really weird.
What's weird?
A pencil talking.
But you've been talking for the last 10 days.
You mean you've heard all that junk I've been rambling on about?
Of course. You didn't think no one was listening, did you?
Well, you know what they say about a tree falling in a forest if no one is around.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
Hm.
So hey, what's your name?
My name?
Yeah, my name's Florence. I mean, it's not like anyone named me Florence because of course I'm just a pencil, and pencil's don't have names. At least not when they're right out of the factory. Did you know you say "fresh out of the factory" quite a bit? You do. Not that I mind, because it's true. But anyway, what is your name? Have you named yourself yet?
Brain. does. not. compute.
What's the matter, Notoo?
How on earth are we even having this conversation?
Oh silly, Notoo, if you can talk, surely I can!
Why are you calling me "Notoo"?
Oh that! Well, you have "No. 2" on the side of your barrel. I just thought it would be fun to call you "Notoo." Dear me, you don't mind, do you?
I-- I--
Please say you're not offended? I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted you to have a name like me.
I have a name!
Hehe, yes you do.
I have a name! I didn't even know I needed a name! But I did! I do! I have a name!
Notoo!
That's me! Florence, you named me!
I did. Do you like it?
It's magnanimous!
I think you mean magnificent, Notoo.
You are so magnanimous to give me a name. My very own name. I won't forget you, Florence. Not til my last scribble.
Why, I hope not. After all, we're in the same pack. We'll probably end up in the same place together.
You named me! I was nothing. A nameless pencil amid a sea of pencils--not a literal sea--that's author talk again--I was a nameless pencil amid a sea of pencils, on the back of a shelf, among numberless shelves in a huge office supply store. And you looked at me--
Well, I heard you.
You saw me--
Without actual eyes, of course.
--and you named me! I was nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just one in a mass of wooden tubes.
I think you're reading into this a little more than I meant it.
No, you gave me meaning in a meaningless world! Purpose in a purposeless world!
A point in a pointless world!
Yes! Yes! YES!
I really think you've been on the back of this shelf too long.
You're missing the point!
Is that a pun again?
I am not alone. I've got a name, and I'm not alone! We're going to do amazing things together, you and me, Florence. We're going to take this world by storm. We're going to write things. Amazing things. We're going to make people cry. Happy tears, Florence, happy tears! Stick with me, kid, and we'll go places!
Um, Notoo?
Yeah?
We're still sitting on a shelf.
I know.
Ok, just so long as you know.
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