Nobody Cares About Your Favorite Pen

The only ink your family cares about is "no more tattoos."

Casey with a broken red pen

I'm a writer. Depending on who you talk to, I'm a good one, an okay one, or a really annoying shitty one. While my computer ranks as one of my most important writing tools, I'm still a bit old-fashioned. I look a good pen. I don't prefer expensive ballpoint stuff or feather quill things, but I like a nice fine-point Click-a-Bic.

I made the move from PaperMate to Bic when I worked in an office and could steal better pens. After that, my choice was made. Then I moved on and needed to buy my own pens. Then I got laid off.

Luckily, pens last for a while and I use them until the last drop of blue ink runs out.

Before I moved to Korea, I noticed my stockpile of pens looked pretty slim. I took what I could, but something felt wrong. I used up all my favs and needed to switch to a bunch of crappy different Korean pens.

When I returned back to the States the second time, I saw something in the family desk. A Click-a-Bic! And it was blue! I felt as if I discovered a long-lost vintage wine, however that makes you feel. Here's all I know about wine: there's red and white.

Casey Freeman blue Click-a-Bic pen

Oh my goodness! The line strength! The smoothness! The great clickability! Oh my goodness! One of these badboys would last me a semester at the university! And there were two! Maybe by my next visit home, I could special order a box of them.

That night at the dinner table, I brought out my newly-rediscovered treasures.

"Mom and Dad, check these out. These are my favorite pens! I can take notes and write all day long with these! Isn't that exciting?"

"Shut up and talk about sports or something," my dad snorted. "Fairy."

"That's nice, My Sweet," my mom chided. "I was wondering if you could help carry some heavy things from the basement to the computer room. I'm selling more things on eBay and need my stock nearby."

"Think of all the writing I could do! The creations! I could write my next novel with these pens!"

"Yeah, or maybe you could write the tech school, get an application, graduate, and learn how to fix our broken water heater," chuckled my dad.

"Mom, where did you find these things?"

"Oh I don't know. I think I saw them in your room a few years ago and needed a pen. So I took them. They worked nicely, so I took a few of them." My mom sighed and rolled her eyes. "How about moving those boxes?"

"Mom. You, um, stole from me?"

"Like you never stole from me before? And some stupid pens? Get over yourself."


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