The Mechanical Pencil

Long ago in an elementary school desk, the pencil and the pen were having a quarrel. All of the school supplies were gathered around, watching the fight in the dark, cozy desk.

"Pens are much more superior to pencils;" the pen boasted to the pencil. "they come in many different colors and styles. Pencils like you are so old school, the same old thing in the same old, dull color gray. Pens like me never run out of ink and they will have a sharp tip for forever. Pencils, on the other hand, always break, and after a while the student gets bored with using you; you break so many times and you get dull so easily that you're just such a pain to use. Besides, I'm also more modern, and children like it that way."

Pen always enjoyed making Pencil feel bad because she never wanted him to take her place as the best writing tool in the desk. Pen wanted to stay on top, be the best she could, so that the pencil would feel bad and not do his best work whenever he was used.

Everyone agreed with Pen when she made statements like these to Pencil every day. The paper, inside notebooks and folders alike, agreed with Pen because they all thought her bold black ink looked so much better on them than the sad, light gray graphite of Pencil's. The markers agreed too, because they despised anyone without ink (but, of course, the colored pencils and crayons were the only exception because the markers, colored pencils, and crayons work together to make drawings). The markers also loved how Pen came in many different colors, like them. Even the colored pencils and crayons didn't like Pencil, because they thought that his one dull color was a disgrace to their many beautiful colors. Nobody was friends with Pencil, all because of Pen.
  
One day, Pencil got so tired of everyone being mean to him that he decided to run away. He didn't know where he would go, but he just wanted to be anywhere but there. If nobody liked him, he didn't see what his purpose was. He knew that he had one, but he couldn't figure out what it was with all of the bullying going on around him. He needed to find a place where he belonged. When the desk was opened he hopped out when the student wouldn't notice.

He hopped his way around the classroom.

He bounced his way into the hallway.

He jumped past all of the classrooms.

He hopped, bounced, and jumped around until...

SNAP! His tip broke.

He fell on the floor with a BONK!

It was then that Pencil realized what a
mistake he had made. He rolled down, down, down the hallway, and he couldn't stop himself.

As he rolled, he heard Pen's snide comments echoing in his head.

"Only FOOLS use you, Pencil, because they make so many mistakes they have to stop and erase all of the time. People who use ME are PERFECT because they never mess up, so nobody ever thought of adding an eraser to me."
"Why do you think students write all of their essays in me, Pencil? Because my black ink looks much better on the paper and students like it that way, that's why!"
"Whenever a student uses you, Pencil, all of the other students around get annoyed because your graphite makes so much noise. Pens like me glide silently across the paper."
"Kids in elementary schools only use you because their teachers MAKE THEM. In middle school and high school, kids never use pencils because they are allowed to use pens instead."
"Face it, Pencil. I'm the superior writing tool."

Pencil got lost in all of his thoughts; he didn't realize that he stopped rolling. He had hit a wall. But he wasn't in the hallway any more.