Last night Spiderman lost his pen. He had been doing a crossword before dinner and after we ate our delicious Jamaican jerk tempeh and pineapple rice he wanted to finish his pooh-zle. That’s not a misprint--that’s what we call them in this family. Get over it. Anyway, he thought it might have slipped down the back of the sofa as sometimes that can happen to a pen.
He bade me get up so he could take off the sofa cushions. Nothing. He stuck his hand down the back and came up with a pen. But it wasn’t his pen. He kept reaching down the back of the sofa and he kept coming up with pens. But never his pen. It was like a magic show by Bo Bo the magician (who could really pull his thumb off). Those of you who did not grow up in the 1970’s in Central Louisiana will not recall Bo Bo the magician, but he came faithfully to Cherokee elementary and you could see his dazzling magic show for the price of a quarter. Good times.
Anyway, every time Spiderman reached in and pulled out yet another pen I wanted to applaud. I was squealing with delight and he went all Queen Victoria “we are not amused” on me, but I thought it was hysterical. In the end he pulled out 3 pens, 1 pen lid, 1 pencil, 1 sharpie and 2 red markers. Plus a handful of almonds.
Spiderman would like me to make note of the fact that every single one of the afore mentioned items was lost by me. We almost have enough to start our own stationers giving WH Smith a run for its money. You never know.
Oh and fear not, oh best beloved reader, we did find his pen on a chair hiding under a stack of papers. I didn’t want you to go off and be anxious thinking Spiderman was not able to finish his