Ornery

Ornery pen...it had just had it with me...vengeful vain thing...it had been zipped in the pocket of my purse for several days...not even an appearance to sign a check...no chance to show off its beautiful self...no expected admiration coming its way...not a single compliment in which to bask

Lying on its side too long...I’m certain it wanted to kick off its top and leak everywhere...I know its unforgiving proclivities...its desire to ejaculate black ink...but it didn’t...it couldn’t...its top tightened down by my hand

But my pen made its displeasure known...refusing to write...it withheld its ink...perhaps its only way of expressing its rage...shaking didn’t help...squeezing the cartridge didn’t help...I wondered if something was wrong with my pen...would I have to show it to a fellow pen enthusiast...maybe take the pen to a pen hospital

My mind flew around...frustrated at being denied ink...the quick note on a sticky pad left undone...my pen and I were in a battle of wills...Me: write...Pen: no...Me: write...Pen: no...I finally gave up and used a pencil...Me: so there...Pen: mrump

But this morning we seem to be at peace with one and other...my pen is a snob...liking only long meaningful writing...standing opposed to jotted notes on small, brightly colored sticky pads...Me: Okay I’ll try to remember that...Pen: that’s what pencils are for...Me: mrumph