My Mechanical Pencil Hath Run Out of Lead

It was today, which shall be stored within the cells of my brain forevermore when some strange woman standing in front of my English class announced: "Please taketh out a Number 2 pencil."

In a quiet but calm and dignified response, I loudly unzipped the front zipper to my book bag and noisily fumbled around the piles of junk (paper clips, index cards, candy wrappers, homework I forgot to turn in, miscellaneous living organisms, etc.) and managed to unearth the only pencil I had in my possession. It was a mechanical pencil-the most magic of pencils designed by God himself that never grows dull. It is simple in design, yet one cannot underestimate its sheer ingenuity without getting violent death threats by Thomas Edison's reincarnation. And once you experience the sheer magic of its mystical inner-workings, you will be sure to treasure that angelic and wholesomely holy memory of it for eternity.

In the awestruck anticipation of mine, I clicked twice upon the eraser of my mechanical pencil; I stopped the drool from dribbling off my bottom lip with my nervous tongue as I witnessed in sheer amazement the lead slowly emerging from the tip of my mechanical pencil. Then, as I clicked it one more time, something so dreadfully vile and so hideously evil happened that the Dammed One Himself (the Evil Demon-Beaver) felt its most painful blow: the lead fell out of my mechanical pencil. It was in my head in which I fully and most silently gasped as I most certainly did not want my poor, unsuspecting, smelly classmates have to brought themselves to suicide because of this most shocking and most unexpectedly unexpected event.

'Ah surely,' I thought, experiencing a slight episode of false relief, 'there must be more lead contained within this mechanical pencil, for they oftentimes do come with extras.' I clicked on the eraser end many times anticipating the emergence of a fresh, blessed piece of lead. I clicked faster and faster. I clicked so many times that even His Holiness Himself (the Swiss Cheese-God) lost count. I wailed...silently of course...but my body certainly heard it because it's inner functionary workings were working too hard at stuff they weren't even supposed to be working at. I shook the mechanical pencil by my eardrum hoping that I would pick up the blessed vibrations of the holy lead jiggling around in its shrine. But all I heard jingling around within my mechanical pencil was holy air molecules.

'Oh God!' I internally wailed. 'OH PHILADELPHIA CREAM CHEESE AND GOUDA ANGELS! PLEASE HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!!'

"Would you like to borrow my pencil?" the classmate sitting beside me asked.

"Yes please," I said gratefully.