It’s my birthday today, so as a present I expect each and every one of you to write me a comment, however…

…it must contain the words, ‘but if that is the case, why do I continue to dream of pens?’

The order of these words is not important.

Thank you in advance.

 

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63 thoughts on “It’s my birthday today, so as a present I expect each and every one of you to write me a comment, however…

  1. First of all, happy birthday!!!! Second of all, on first reading that line, I thought it said, “…why do I continue to dream of penis?” And then I thought, this will be a more difficult writing challenge than I originally envisioned. Anyway, here we go.

    I wrote with fountain pens for as long as I could remember. They were beautiful; utilitarian, but also stylish. I loved them. And I loved the variety of colors of fountain pen inks. Purples, greens, blues, oranges, pinks… I pitiied the poor bastards who used ballpoint pens and had only a tiny number of colors to choose from.

    Until that one day. That day that changed my life. I was using Acme Blood Red ink in my favorite pen. And it leaked. It leaked everywhere. On my hands, my clothes, my belongings… I tried to wash the stains out but they wouldn’t budge.

    And that’s what tipped off the police. I had been so careful to hide all traces of my crimes. The body parts were discarded in different parts of the city, with no fingerprints, no DNA, nothing. I congratulated myself on how clever I had been. Nobody would care about the deaths of those people, they were useless. A drain on society. And how many people celebrated, in fact, when they learned that all the bodies found belonged to erstwhile scumbag CEOs?

    It would have all worked out perfectly. Except for that damned leaky pen. The police came and searched my whole house. And they found the one thing I kept as a souvenir from a victim: a beautiful gold-plated fountain pen.

    As I write this, I have nothing but four prison walls to look at, and I write with pencils now. After my conviction I swore that I would never use pens again as long as I lived. Those terrible writing implements destroyed me. They were my downfall. They ruined my life. I hate them.

    But if that is the case, why do I continue to dream of pens?

  2. BUT I do not follow orders well. IF you really want me to do THAT, I will, but it IS with extreme reluctance. However, in this CASE, I will not question WHY you would want me to DO such a thing. I will just CONTINUE typing TO make your DREAM come true. But I am not proud OF myself. Can’t I just buy you a matching set of fancy writing PENS?

  3. I am free to write as often as I feel like, tapping away like a chipmunk on my Mac. I can correct errors, change formats, fonts, colors. The possibilities are endless. But in that case, why do I continue to dream of pens?

    I love the smooth glide of black ink meeting paper, a sacred union giving birth to words, sentences, paragraphs! The weight of the pen in my hand like the weight of a firearm, filled with danger, a tool used sometimes for provocation…..

    (when I read your birthday request this morning, I thought it said “penis.” 🙂 )

    Happy Happy Birthday my friend. Champagne for everyone!

    Birthday Bisous,
    Dawn

    • Thank you my darling dawn! You conjure up the beautiful, swift, elegant use of pen as weapon, as opposed to the clunky comedic image of wrapping a laptop round someone’s head!
      And you are not the only one to read ‘penis’ instead of pens; see Madame Weebles above.

      Bubble bisous

  4. I didn’t read all your orders… just saw that it’s your birthday. Well my dearest darling… have the happiest of birthdays!!!! Do that for me, okay? Great big red lipped kisses to you.

    • Well the orders are pretty important…but because it’s you I’d better let you off…
      I had a good day; slept till half one then went to the park for a picnic with the wife, the kids and the in-laws; it was hot, but fun.
      Thank you and your big red lips!

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