The last pencil
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He started the year with a whopping 365 pencils, one for each day of the year, but now, as senior Moe Ron enters the final quarter, he is down to his last stub. Desperate not to become the annoying kid who always borrows pencils and never returns them, Ron is doing everything in his power to maintain a tight hold on his terminal yellow stick.
“It’s more than just a pencil,” Ron said. “It’s a metaphor for my life. I have already lost so much: pens, paper, erasers, homework, friends, the will to live. It’s the only thing left that gives my life meaning.”
Learning from his past 364 mistakes, Ron has decided never to let the pencil out of his sight. In school, he keeps it on his desk, directly in his line of sight. At track practice, he keeps it in his underwear. Late at night before he goes to bed, he keeps it firmly grasped between his hands. He even named the inanimate piece of wood Mike.
“My teacher always used to tell me that you’re less likely to lose something you’re emotionally invested in,” Ron said. “That’s why I named him Mike Pencil, after my favorite Hollywood celebrity, Mike Pence. His fading, wrinkled outside, wispy, white eraser and hate for colored pencils even reminds me of my hero.”
Sadly, Mike has only a short time left on this earth. Unlike his mechanical brethren, Mike is a mortal, wooden pencil. After weeks of wear and tear by electric pencil sharpeners (the pencil’s sworn enemy), his life span has shortened to a measly three inches. Unable to compete with the much more attractive six in pencils, Mike is doomed to a life of celibacy.
“I like to think I saved Mike,” Ron said. “I gave his life meaning by using him to complete homework and drawing penises in textbooks. In a way, I think he saved me too. He showed me that no matter how inferior you are, you can always find a purpose.”
“What the narrator said,” Ron said. “Who knows what horrors they now face. I can only imagine the panicked students gnawing away on their mangled corpses during a test, or the sticky ears they’ve scratched from deep within, or the French they’ve had to write. It sickens me.”
Deep down, Ron is really sick of himself. His careless actions and lack of respect for the lives of inanimate objects is the real horror here. In order to prevent future atrocities like these, Ron has a message for all the other students out there down to their last pencils.
“Don’t be as negligent as I was,” Ron said. “Don’t treat them like your kids. Care for them. Respect them. Love them. They are the lifeblood of your education, and nobody can survive without blood. Except maybe jellyfish.”