So it turns out I possess strange powers. Powers that are beyond the limits of human comprehension. No one knows how or why I have these powers, but I have some inklings. I believe I have been placed on this Earth as an “agent” of “God”. My mission: to rid our fair planet of the incredible plague of pen overpopulation.
You see, I spend every hour of every day taking pens from people and then losing them. Just the other day, I was at the bank, and needed a pen to sign my withdrawal slip. I asked the clerk for one; she provided one. And only when I was two blocks away did I realize I had taken her pen. And two blocks later, when I needed a pen to sign a credit card receipt at a record store…. the pen was gone. The pen was gone. Where did it go? How did I lose it? I have no answers. So I asked this clerk for a pen, too, he agreed, and within ten minutes, that pen was gone too. Later that day, another clerk, another pen, and so it goes. My only conclusion: I have some astonishing superpower that enables me to lose pens at a rate far faster than any mere mortal.
It’s tough weilding this heavy burden. It’s tough being the cold executioner of so many innocent pens. But I know that “God” has a “plan”. I’m not just losing pens for no reason. I’m fighting pen overpopulation. Sure, no one talks about it; no one wants to face the hard, tough, chewy facts, but we’ve got way more pens than we need around here. And the problem is getting out of hand. It’s time to thin out the pen herd. Some would say pen overpopulation isn’t even a real problem. Tell that to the millions of poor starving pens that spend all their days in boxes inside office supply closets, never being used, never being loved. Tell them there isn’t a problem. Try not to hear there quiet whimpering. Try to ignore their pain. You’ll probably be successful. Pen whimpering is very quiet.
Look, I know it’s harsh. My bold brand of vigilante justice. Destroying some unlucky pens, so that others may live. But I don’t think about it like that. To be honest, I don’t really think about it much at all, I just keep losing pens. But when I do think about it, I like to think that when I lose pens… they’re not dying. They end up in a better place. Figuratively. Literally, they probably end up falling down a sewer drain or stuck in the bottom of my man-purse. But figuratively, they’re in a big field, where they can run around, and play with other pens. They’re happier there, in that figurative wonderland.
So if you pass me on the street, don’t stop and gawk, don’t treat me different from any other man. Yes, I kill pens to help the greater good. Yes, I put my ass on the line every minute of every day. But I’m still just a man. Just like you. Just like anyone. Except, of course, I do wear a big yellow spandex uniform that says “Pen Avenger”. But don’t tell “God”. He hates it when I wear spandex.