Lamy’s botched escape

What was that special about the blue pen named Lamy? After all it was just a blue fountain pen; old, worn out, scratched and not really what you would call an attractive piece of stationery.

So what was all the fuss about? Apparently, Lamy had gone missing from one of the humans’ workspace and many a commotion was made to recover Lamy by that particular human.

When at last it was found, it sighed a great big sigh and narrated to us the story on the mystery of it’s dissappearance and it’s subsequent recovery the same evening it was brought back to 3. I didn’t really care much, but then again I was bored, so I listened along with the crowd of stationery gathered at Owner’s desktop.

“I tried to escape..” it told us forlornly.

“I couldn’t take the abuse any longer.”

I watched as all the other stationery gasped silently at Lamy’s revelation. But I wasn’t that surprised. These humans, they were capable of almost anything.

Lamy told us about the smell of it’s owner’s workstation, how it was so pungent that at times it found it quite unbearable to write anything or glide properly on paper. It told us that at times, it’s owner would fling it on the desktop whenever the owner was stressed or angry (which was very often) and the way the owner would sexually abuse Lamy (at this point, I heard the other stationery gasping at Lamy’s statement). How could a pen be sexually abused?, I thought to myself.

Man, I must really be going crazy now, as if it isn’t enough that I fraternise with stationery that were alive and talking, but I also witnessed a confession from a pen that it was being sexually abused by a human.. *sigh*

Lamy went on to say that it’s owner had used it to rub and scratch various parts of the owner’s body, and other obscene details which I’ll graciously omit out for now, which to Lamy amounted to sexual abuse.

“I’m not built for all that. I was built to write!” Lamy sighed sadly, little droplets of ink streaming down it’s scratched body.

And that was how Lamy snapped. It told us that one day during one of it’s owner’s meetings outside of 3, it discreetly rolled off the table and rolled away silently. It’s owner never realised it was gone until much later. The decent, cheerful lady who found Lamy, placed it in her safekeeping and for a short two weeks, Lamy lived the good life as this new owner took very good care of Lamy. It was only used to write and when it wasn’t writing it was placed carefully in a velvet lined drawer, between a row of sheaffer pens, who kept it company with good conversation and fun times.

And so it was that Lamy thought it had finally entered the gardens of paradise when one day, it all ended abruptly. It came as a shock to Lamy as it thought that it’s old owner would not bother looking for it. After all, it wasn’t exactly a gold plated sheaffer or a priceless piece of stationery. it wasn’t even an antique or a collector’s item or even a limited edition design! It just couldn’t understand why it’s old owner would go to great lengths to get it back to 3. It was only a common pen that could easily be replaced. And how the owner managed to locate and recover it back was beyond Lamy’s reasoning.

“And now I’m back here.” Lamy gave us a devastated look as it made it’s way back to it’s owner’s desk top.

There was a silence as Lamy left, as all the other stationery sat pondering Lamy’s fate and their own for the rest of the night. Each pondering Lamy’s fate, each thinking about what fate would befall them in the future.

I swam back to the cosy bottom part of my confinement space and tried to get some sleep. Who cared about that pathetic pen anyways.

At least it’s owner wanted it.