A Day in the Life

December 9, 2009
By Anonymous

I know my mom always told me not to brag. It’s rude, it’s this, it’s that, whatever. But really, with a name like mine, I think I deserve those bragging rights. I’m a Monte Blanc for crying out loud. Well, I’m a cap to one anyway. In other words I’m the best of the best, ruler of all things ink. However, even the best of the best need to sit through bore-me-to-tears math lessons and be chewed on by their respective owners. I’ve heard the stories, the rumors, that nobody cares about us pen caps. But me, I’m gonna be noticed. I’m gonna be a star.
It all started when I heard that I was going to be shipped from the factory to the Monte Blanc on 5th avenue, NY, NY. Goodbye stuffy old factory and hello New York! I mean, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. And it was that very moment when I decided that I’m going to be a Broadway star. So here I am just waiting to make my debut, except I was bought as a gift for some snobby rich kid’s Bar Mitzvah. Well there goes those dreams, or so I thought. Last week during Biology, I couldn’t help but fall asleep, and dream of this wonderful super magnificent plan.
A plan that would be totally different from what I’ve ever done. I’m going to escape. Yup, you heard me, that’s right. Hey, now don’t roll your eyes and give me the whole, “ But you’re just a pen cap, you can’t do anything,” spiel. Because I will do anything to fulfill those ‘ole small town dreams. Which is why I’m now perched over the edge of my desk trying to wiggle myself out of my owners tight grasp. I wiggle, squirm, and bite him, and, “ OUCH!” he screamed. “ My pen, my pen just a-a-attacked me!” he stuttered, searching his hands. Ah Ha! I knew my teeth would come in handy sooner or later. I smile to myself as I shimmy down one of the desk legs and triumphantly roll my way towards the door. All of the other pen caps in the room gawk with awe, for I am the bravest pen cap to ever have capped a pen. Some start to cheer, and others roll their eyes at my stupidity. I ignore them and try and focus on my next plan. I’m able to roll my way under the big wooden door and into the hallway, where I nearly collide with some idiot with a tuba. I never did like those band kids. I keep rolling, as the rocky theme song is playing in my head.
I break out into a jazz square, hopping that I’m ready for my audition. I’m so busy doing jazz squares and spirit fingers that I don’t notice this Santa clause like, big blue man with a broom come sweeping down the hall way. As I finish the chorus from Mamma Mia, I feel these little things start to tickle me. And slowly, I’m being rolled over and over and over, the cold tiles squeaking underneath my back. These long brown hair like things are tickling me all over, leaving bits of dust and fluff in my hair, and I laugh. I can’t help that I’m ticklish! “ WEEEEE, YAHOOOO!” I yell, as I continue to roll and roll down the hall and SPLAT! All of I sudden I see that I’ve landed in a big pile of garbage! I start to panic, my heart pounding so loud that it sound like church bells. I look around at this mess that I’m in and hold my nose. It smells like trouble! Well, actually it smells like garbage but I’ve always gotten those two scents confused. I lift my eyes up to the blue Santa, and sees that his nametag says: janitor.
I try to scream so he knows that I’m not a piece of garbage, that I’m worth more then his wedding ring. “ AHHHH, HELPPP MEEEE!” I yell, but it’s no good. The tickle machine on a stick come flying at me, I try and duck, but it’s to late. I’m being taken under its wrath yet again. I can feel myself being swept into a cold, metal dustpan, and being dumped in the trash. “ Think Monte, think!” I scold myself as I try to figure out what to do. I consider using my ninja moves, when I see a small silver whistle sitting underneath a mushy banana. I slip my hands into the deep mush and drag out the whistle. I take a deep breath, and “ TWEET!” Blue Santa is so surprised that he drops the garbage can, as if it’s contaminated. The can is lying sideways on the floor, so I wiggle my way through yesterday’s meatloaf and lima beans. Ew! I wiggle and wiggle, until I see the blue Santa, who is busy digging through the garbage. The rocky music comes back as I strut my way down the hallway and out the main door. Watch out Broadway, here I come.

The author's comments:
I wrote this piece for a creative writing class. The assignment was to take an object and write a story for a day in the life of that object. enjoy!

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