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I was twelve, and I stole a pen from a video store. They saw me steal it. My punishment: late fees every time I returned. If I returned it on time, then it was two days late. If it was a day late, then it was three days late. This was a problem since I loved video games and would rent them on a regular basis. The money to do so I had to earn from chores. This was another problem for a slacker such as myself who wanted nothing more than to play Sega Genesis while listening to Dr. Dre's Chronic album. All of this because of a pen. I took my frustrations out on that pen for the madness it brought to my life, writing whatever nonsense popped into my head for hours until I expended every last drop of ink that gave life to that cursed pen. But, as it turns out, the nonsense still remains long after the ink is gone.