Your pen faints

It wobbles a bit, then it teeters, and faints.

"Oh pen, don't leave me like this! In such a tragic way, too," you comment. "Anyway, you can't expect me to remember all the rituals and that that you do for dead pens?"

You slap some water on it's nib. "Oh, Calligraphy One, no! You can't let this happen! My pen can't leave me yet! I've only just met it!" you start to sob. "And I need it for my upcoming assignment!" You wail and sob and turn on your iPod to see if you've got any updates.

Suddenly, a song starts playing from it.

"Oooh, nice song," you say, then start singing it. Not exactly a funeral passing by song, but good enough. For an added bonus, it actually sounds good.

"AaAaaaAAAAhhHhhH, uHUHhhUh, noOo WwAaaaAAYyyY!" you wail/ sing.

Then your pen comes back to life. "You're alive!" you cry. "Great! Let's get onto marking my homework!"

Your pen seems kind of cross for some reason. "I fainted and you DIDN'T DO ONE THING!!!!!"

"Anger management," you tut, but, like everyone else, even your own pen doesn't listen to you.

"I JUST FAINTED!!!" cries your pen, but, like every other employer it's had, you don't listen.

"Yeah, man ... uh ... pen. I employed you. You work for me, y'know?"

"Um.... I don't remember that in the contract -"

"AHA! So there WAS a contract, was there?" you ask. "I KNEW so! You wouldn't work for me because of free will!"

Your pen is seriously confused. "I got hired, dude. Of course I have a contract... Penamen."

"Why are you saying that? It isn't even a prayer."

"Yes it is, I was praying for a piano to fall on you while I was saying the word 'dude'."

Then a piano falls on top of your laptop. "I was typing Protagonize on that!"

"What-evarrr," says your pen.

"Oh, so you are a teenage pen, are you now?"

Suddenly the pen beams. "I watched a PG movie last night: reb-ell!"

Then your pen literally beams, wherever it got the flashlight from. "OW! Turn off the flashlight!" you scream. "It hurts my eyes! And plus, aren't you going to pay for insurance?"

"I'm a pen," your pen says. "Our currency is in ink."

"But didn't you just say you buy ink as a food...." you trail off. "Whatever. I still haven't thought of a branch for this story yet, so you can."

"Me?" your pen butts in. Of course, leave it to it to mess up a story.

"No, the protagonize member who's reading this right now and wants to add onto it. Of course, after all the branches have been added, this will look silly because it will seem I HAVE thought of branches.."

The End

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