It was a dry cold day at 3.
I was swimming around minding my own business one afternoon when I heard a knock on the walls of my confinement space. It was the little eraser whom all the other stationery referred to as Rubba. He was blue and red in colour and moved around hobbling since a quarter of his body had wasted on erasing for the humans.
Rubba was calling me, trying to tell me something. I swam my way to the other end of my confinement space and Rubba looked at me excitedly.
“Hey fish, the other stationery were wondering whether you might be interested to join us in an escape plan. We’re going to out of here.”
I sighed as I looked at the intellectually challenged eraser. Did he not know that I was a FISH???!!? I had no means of escape unless someone released me into the sea or river. Other than that option, the only other possibility of me leaving my confinement space was if owner decided to flush me down the toilet or cook me for dinner. Did he not see that??? Did he not get it that there was a reason why I was living underwater?
Instead of my usual snapping and nasty response, I decided to humour myself.
“Nah, I kinda like it here. Say..Rubba..I have a question. Where are you guys planning to escape to?”
I watched in amusement as Rubba pondered in bewildered silence. He had obviously never thought about what would happen after the escape, where they would go, what they would do…
“Err…maybe we can look for a stationery warehouse, where ALL our kind are. I hear it’s fun times there.”
I smiled. My day was getting better by the minute.
“And if you do find, say, this warehouse, how do you propose getting there physically? You guys going to roll all the way to the warehouse with the risk of getting run over or stepped on by something/someone; or are you guys taking a bus or just hitchhiking with HUMANS all the way there??”
Rubba looked despondent…all the excitement he had displayed earlier on his rubbery face seemed to fade away from his expression.
“We’ll think of something, we’ll consult Torch. He’ll know what to do. He’ll tell us. He’ll help us!” Rubba hobbled away while muttering to himself, in deep thought.
So they were going to consult Torch. Torch was the flashlight at 3. Being the only one of his kind here, he was somewhat very bright and insightful and the other stationery looked to him for advice. I smirked to myself as I swam off to my favourite end of my confinement space, hoping that Torch would run out batteries by the time the stationery went to consult him…
Part II : The Torch speaks…
coming soon.
*****
