The Old Man and The Pen

A battle of wits

The Old Man stared at The Pen for the better part of the morning. It was a good Pen. The other Pens through the years were but sad and cheap replicas of The Pen he held in his aging fingers.

The Old Man never believed The Pen was mightier than The Sword. The Pen might have been better at documentation than the sword, but certainly not mightier. He didn’t know much about swords, but The Old Man knew pens. The physics of a functioning sword being filled with ink to write was absurd. No one can write with a sword, let alone document with it.

And besides, he could sheathe The Pen in his pocket. A sword, not so much.

In one sense, The Old Man was completely the philosopher. After staring at The Pen for so long and wondering about these absurdities while his coffee got cold, The Old Man wondered what was next on his writing agenda. He could write about his travels, his family, his friends, or even a heavy sword, but those never moved the needle on his excitement scale.

Or he could write about the Top Ten Benefits of Taking a Power Nap in Early Afternoons.

No, it had taken The Old Man all morning to figure out that he was finally out of ink.

The Old Man spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find a magnifying glass to determine the brand of The Pen. Only then could he make the trip to the store to purchase another.

But would The Pen be the same pen exactly?

A different batch of fresh ink could throw it out of kilter. And what if there was an inexperienced inkmaster at the helm, what then?

The Old Man put down The Pen and asked, “Now, where was that paper on power naps? I bet I qualify for one.”

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