The pen may be mighter than the sword, but...

...the Ken is much mightier than the pen.
I've never met a pen I couldn't break. In fact, most pens last less than an hour on my person before they either run dry (annoying) or blow up (even more annoying). About once every two weeks, the pen I bring to work in` the morning accompanies me home that day, still functional.I'm sure it's breathing hard, though. And cursing my name in its quiet, scritchy-scribble of a voice.
I'm sure your workplace, dear reader, is just like mine: you see a pen and YOINK! into the pocket it goes, right? One of the people at my work, I kid you not, has twenty or more pens on her at any given time. She sucks them up as if by magic. Pens are forever getting lost and found and making the rounds from employee to employee. More than once I have asked to borrow a pen, only to be given one I tossed away months ago. Didn't work for me, you know. I have become Death, destroyer of Pens. I pounce on them with alacrity, only because I know the current model is destined for doom in about three....no, two...minutes now.
This condition I have--appendiohshitus--has been with me my whole life. I can still remember opening my school bag back in grade thirteen and finding its contents literally coated in ink, as if a whole cotillion of pens had exploded, not just one. The same thing happened in grade five. And most of my jeans pockets are no longer white inside, at this point. Shirt pockets...pens never blow up in my shirt pocket. They dry up instead. Often almost instantly.Not once have I ever kept the same pen long enough to actually see the ink run out.
It's getting to the point where people are afraid to lend me pens. And I've about had enough of it
Only once have I ever had a pen that lasted me as long as the average Bic lasts everybody else I know.That pen was a SpacePen, given to me as a Christmas present two years ago from one of my dairy reps. Truly amazing pen, this was. You could hold a piece of paper against a wall and write on it; the thing would even dispense ink straight upwards with nary a protest. It lasted me almost two months, then ran dry. Two months with the same pen! Unheard of. I was singing this pen's praises to everyone I knew. (Weirded out more than a few of them, I'm sure.) I even named him: Old De-Pen-dable.
I threw D in a milk crate that's hanging from the top level of racking in my cooler. Truth be told, I didn't want to lose him...at that point, he was an old friend
Three months later, I was cleaning out my 'desk' and found D, comatose, at the bottom. Lifting him out gingerly, I looked him over and then asked him to write something. "Attention Staff: Please remember to holy shit this pen freaking WORKS!"
He lasted another month before going dead. Being as I couldn't see the reservoir, I can't tell you if he was sucked dry or not.
I miss him, though. If people wouldn't look at me as if I had completely lost my mind, I would have buried him, given a full ceremony, erected a little headstone: In Memory of D, who did his job.
If only there were more of him around.