Eddy awoke one morning at 8am. He didn't like early mornings and 8am was as early as mornings came, at least as far as Eddy knew. Eddy was a simple man... sorry, scratch that. Eddy was a simple pen. He was a Bic medium filled with black ink, the best kind of ink as far as he was concerned. Eddy's life had been interesting up to this point. He was once held by the Edge when he was signing an autograph for his owner. If only he was capable of moving he would be out on the town spending the Edge's money by forging his signature.
Today was Thursday. Eddy loved Thursdays because even when someone tried to write the day in shorthand it was always "Thur" and sometimes, if he was lucky, "Thurs". Eddy was in the pocket of his owner's bag and could feel that he was on the bus. Eddy's owner was in college, doing Science or something. Eddy would have prefered it if his owner did Arts or something with lots of writing, but he got plenty of work. It was a fairly standard day for Eddy. "Velocity v" this, "cancerous cell" that. When he got home he was left sitting out on the desk for at least three hours.
He didn't like it. It was cold. He didn't like cold. You were probably able to put that together from the first two sentences, but I thought I'd state it explicitly, just for the morons in the crowd. Yes, you there sir. Anyway, where were we? Ah, Eddy. Eddy was still sitting on the desk when he was picked up again. He was happy to be finally writing again. "Dear Friends," his owner started out.
"I wish I had some friends." thought Eddy. The owner continued, stating that he was very sad at the moment. "This is a bit of a downer," thought Eddy, "but at least I'm not cold anymore." Eddy thought some more as his owner continued writing. "I'm Sorry. Goodbye." was the last that his owner wrote. "What's going on here?" said Eddy aloud, in his head. Wait, do biros have heads? Either way, Eddy was as confused as you are right now.
Eddy's owner put him in his shirt pocket. Eddy loved the feel of shirt, much looser than the constricting, binding fibres of the bag. Eddy got even more cold suddenly. He could feel the wind blowing through his nib. "I don't remember going down the stairs. How are we outside?" questioned Eddy. Then Eddy could feel the full force of gravity acting on his frail plastic body as he flew out of his owner's pocket and through the air. "Aagh! What's going on now! Why am I falling?" screamed Eddy, inside his whatever pen's have for a head.
As Eddy's owner hit the concrete with enough force to kill an ear Eddy fell into a sewer. He landed in the water and drowned. His last thought was "I'm clean! Finally, I'm clean!!!"