Pencils

“Please no” the pencil murmurs as the sharpener rapidly approaches. “I’m small as it is…”
A nearby pencil case cackles cruelly at the pencil as it’s cries fall on deaf ears.

Oh how he wished to be a sharpie… those guys were so cool, with their ever lasting ink. His work could be brushed away with a simple rubber.

“it’s what’s inside that counts” His mother had always said, completely unaware of the irony. His grandfather had been Shakespeare’s pencil. He was just downright average. He just didn’t have the creativity of the rest of his family.

The sharpener slowly and cruelly shaved away another chunk of wood reducing his length ever more.
Forever under appreciated…
Poor Noris…

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