Ode to the Mighty Ball Point Pen!
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| Angelika Unverhau from Dinslaken (Germany) has collected more than 220,000 ball-point pens (excluding duplicates) from 146 countries. |
By Africanlegend
Ballpoint pens are responsible for my education. I am not talking about the newer Bic Clic Stic pens, I am referring to the old school, low tech, 10 cent ball point pens. While the wealthy kids were bringing expensive fountain pens, I was buying cheap ballpoint pens by the million as if they were freely dispensed promotional items. Buying the pens by the million was the only way to ensure that I'd have at least one pen at the end of the day because of the rampant theft and underground cartels of pen smugglers in operation everywhere in school.
Always carry as many ballpoint pens as you can because if there is one thing you should never do, it's underestimate a cheap ballpoint pen's ability to fail at the precisely moment you need it. That is why I tended to also carry around some kind of small notepad that I could relentlessly scribble into to fire up my pens should they decide to stage a mutiny (GOPromos notepads).
Ode to the Mighty Ballpoint Pen.
Oh ballpoint pen, ballpoint pen, why do you fail me thus?
Working wonders in class, silky and smooth your ink doth flow
But in my exam you choke splutters of incoherent verse
And your gracious ink, doth flow no more
Oh ballpoint pen, you make me shake, shudder, twist and twirl,
You make me jump and jiggle and my coworkers giggle,
I writhe and riggle to wake you from your ink-less slumber
But you sit there life-less, keeping my words within your treacherous point.
The pressure is on, I need you my ballpoint pen,
Where are you? You are nor here, nor there but in my pocket you lie slain,
Exploding your ink on my pants so effortlessly the flow,
Oh where, oh where was your messianic ink when I needed it most?
One million dollars for me? All I need do is sign?
I have my trusty ball point pen at my waist, I'll get by just fine
But where are you? I see you but you refuse to write, it's a Coup d'état.
Your treason fills the air with a thick, sultry, sadness.
Oh ballpoint pen why dost though betrayest me?
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