Impatient

My pen is called Boris the pen. I know because I was writing a letter yesterday and the pen stopped writing and said to me, “Hello, my name is Boris. What’s yours?”

I’m well-mannered, so I forgoed panic and said, “I’m Brooks…Can I go back to writing now?”

The pen said, “Sure, it’s just that I wanted to get acquainted since we’re in such close proximity.”

I said, “I understand…Okay, well, this has been nice, so, now back to writing.”

I went back to writing. But a minute later, Boris the pen stopped writing and said, “Um, what’s your favorite color?”

I said, “I never got that. How could someone have one favorite color? Sure, I don’t like to wear yellow, but I still like yellow, especially on flowers and bananas.”

Boris the pen said, “I like green. I like to look at grass. I can look at grass for hours.”

I put the pen away. I went out for a walk. I felt a little badly for shutting up the pen so suddenly. But when I write, I like to be uninterrupted. I mean, why wouldn’t a pen get that?

I turned the corner and suddenly came upon an open field. I was struck by the brightness and vibrancy of the green grass. Oh, my God, then pen was right!!