The Pencil in the Rye

Hello? Hello? Are any of you still here? I think I may be jeopardizing my standing in the Worst Blogger Ever contest by posting, but screw it! I've missed you all terribly! Sorry for dropping off the face of the Internet the last couple of months. But I'm back (for now; let's not get too crazy with the promises), and—even more exciting—I've brought pencils with me.

But these aren't just any pencils. They are, like, the pencil equivalent of Jeff from Today's Special. Except they aren't mannequins, don't accessorize with vests and magical hats, and aren't friends with scooter-riding mice. They COME TO LIFE, is what I'm getting at.

Like this, only a pencil. And with less dancing.

[Image courtesy of Megsplace.com, which has way more info on Today's Special for those of you who are not mid-'80s Nickelodeon aficionados but would love to learn more about magical bevested mannequins. Possible disappointment alert: This mannequin does not make out with Andrew McCarthy.]

But where was I? Oh yeah, pencils. Our first inanimate objects were brought to life not by a magical newsboy cap, but by guest author Sarah.

Sarah says: In my school district, they gave you your permanent record when you finished high school, and my old writing competency tests were in there. I wrote this one when I was 8, in 1986.

The Pencil Story

Once there was a pencil who lived in a box. "I would die to get out of this box!" he said. He hated the box and all the other pencils too.

One day a kid with messy hair and grubby fingers picked him up. The boy took him to school. In his desk was a little red pencil "hi" she said. She looked just like him only red!

They had lots of fun together then the weekend came, they decided to run away. The red pencil said "Am I glad to get out of that dump." They went and moved under a low shelf. That was the greatest. They said "let's stick together forever"

Sarah says: I was given the minimum passing score for this story, which is totally unfair because once you look past the bad punctuation, it's basically the Catcher in the Rye of 120-word test essays—except for the uplifting ending where the pencils quit their jobs and live off the grid. Of course, this story does raise some disturbing questions (that no one ever asked because there were no mental health workers in my school. Plus, if you were quiet and did your work, no one ever wondered why your essay was not only written from the viewpoint of an opposite-sex protagonist, but also replete with phallic imagery...). But maybe it doesn't mean anything. Maybe a pencil is just a pencil, and I didn't hate everyone in my class...

Sada says: It's okay, Sarah. I'm glad you got out of that dump. I hope you've moved on to a "low shelf" of your own. I hear that's the greatest.

But don't think you're alone in channeling your preadolescent anxiety through phallic imagery. Part of the reason it took so long to post this (a small part, to be fair, but a part nonetheless) is that after reading Sarah's story, I had the craziest pencils-coming-to-life deja vu and was 99.9% sure that my sister, Genie, had written about the same thing. And? I was right.

Unfortunately, it took me three months to find it.

Pencil Tales offers a bit of a pencil potpourri, if you will (not literally—that probably wouldn't smell very good). It's also partially dedicated to our elementary school gym teacher, Mr. Powell, "who is a special friend, and has taught me many things I'll never forget." Is it just me, or is that a little weird? Especially in light of the whole pencils-being-shaped-like-manbits thing? Or do I just have lingering ill feelings toward Mr. Powell for forcing me to play newcomb?

"PENCIL PALS FOREVER"

Some people think pencils are just used to write with. Well, I'll tell you something, they're not. When you leave school at the end of the day, what do you think us pencils do? We climb out of those little slits in the desk.

Sada says: Freud would have a field day with this.

Well, it was a typical day. I was in my owner's desk, tired because he had used me so much today. The custodians were doing their usual nighttime watch to make sure no one's in the school that's not supposed to be in the school.

Sada says: That's right, the custodians had to clean toilets, sprinkle sawdust on our vomit, and then? They didn't even get to sleep at night! They had discourage intruders from breaking in and stealing high-cost items like the gym parachute or our green-screen Apple IIs. God knows someone had to make sure we could still play Lemonade Stand in the morning!

When I saw the flashlight fade away, I popped the two paint tabs off my eyes. Paint tabs are little tabs of paint that I used to cover my eyes and other things [Sada says: ?!] with, so no one sees my eyes. After I pulled them off, I blinked about 20 times. My eyes adjusted to the light. I pushed 2 other paint tabs off the spots where my arms are, then my legs. I got ready and squeezed out of the slit.

I got up to explore. I was on the chair. I jumped off, and landed standing up. I ran to our usual meeting spot. PiLinda, Paul, Pete, and Petunia were already there.

Sada says: I guess there's a writing utensil law mandating that all pencil names start with the letter P. Hence the extremely catchy "PiLinda."

"Hey, Peggy." Pete greeted me. None of us were related because we got shipped to this school by different pencil companies.

Sada says: Whoa, was that just an allusion to PENCIL SEX? I was unaware that you could breed pencils. They didn't show that kind of stuff on Mr. Rogers.

In related news, I just did a Google image search for "pencils having sex" and came up with nothing. The Internet is useless.

"Hi, what's up? I'm beat. Today my owner bit me. I felt so slimy," I said.

"The feeling is mutual." everyone agreed. They were all older than I, and had many more teeth marks.

I leaned against a piece of paper. I was beat.

Sada says: It's hard out here for a pencil.

Your days are numbered, buddy.

PiLinda's paint tabs were almost all the way back on(she's sleeping).

"PiLinda!!"I called. Her paint tabs pop off and fly half way across the room. She looked surprised, embarassed, and tired at the same time.

"I'm sorry." I tried to look sorry, but I cracked up, not on purpose, but it just all came out at once. Paul and Petunia joined me. Pete looked as serious as ever. We tried to get serious. It worked, kind of.

PiLinda ran away.

"See what you did?" Pete yelled as he followed PiLinda.

I ran after Pete and easily caught up.

"I said I was sorry, and I am." I was getting mad at Pete. I think that PiLinda has an awful bad temper. PiLinda and I are best friends. I met her when I came from a pencil company. I know PiLinda well. I ran past Pete. I almost caught up with PiLinda, but as soon as she saw me she sped up.

Sada says: So basically, a bunch of pissed-off pencils are sprinting around a darkened classroom? Just checking.

Also, it has not escaped my attention that these two are named Peggy and Pete.

You want to hire me to do your pencil portrait now, I know it.

PiLinda was out of breath, so she stopped.

"I'm really sorry."I say.

"That's ok." she says. "I just have been through a lot lately. My mother disappeared and my father's gone too, but, please, try not to tell anybody."

Sada says: You see what happens when you lose a pencil? YOU TEAR A FAMILY APART.

Just then Pete walked up, looking REAL mad.

"Are you all right, PiLinda?" he asked her.

"Yeah, but I really need to talk to Peggy. It's important, but I would appreciate it if you went back and told everybody else we're ok."

Pete nodded, and started jogging back.

Jogging pencil clip art FTW!

(Not that this in any way makes up for the lack of pencils sexing it up.)

(Also, I can't for the life of me figure out why the pencil has fangs. Twilight, must you ruin everything?)

When he was out of sight, PiLinda started again, "Everyone has been ignoring me lately. I feel as if I belong somewhere else..." She caught her breath. "I miss my parents, and lately, I'm so sleepy and mad...but I feel so awful."

"Don't worry." I said and started to cry. "My parents died before I got shipped here." I sniffled.

Sada says: Angst: a universal theme in pencil lit.

"Oh-my-goodness." PiLinda said sadly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I'm really sorry. I am."

"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want any special treatment." I admitted.

"That's ok, I like you just the way you are, Peggy. Pencil Pals Forever?" she asked and started to giggle about how dorky that sounded.

"Yeah," I laughed. "Pencil Pals Forever."

Sada says: Aaaaaand that's nearly the same ending as the first story, with the disaffected pencils swearing their allegiance to one another. Pencils... so predictable!

If you weren't already in pencil paradise, this story is followed up with some pencil poetry. I'll scan this so you can fully appreciate the genius. It's an acrostic poem, in which the first letter of each line spells the word "PENCILS" (the "L" line is my favorite, btw), but also? Those letters are themselves MADE OF PENCIL.

"PENCILS"

Perfect writing utensils

Erasers at the bottom

Needs to be sharpened when it gets dull

Constructed out of wood

In them is lead

Like pens

Sharp pencils are best

Sada says: In them is actually graphite, but I guess I shouldn't quibble with a fifth grader.

In the book's final installment, Genie gets post-apocalyptic on our asses.

"IF I HAD THE LAST PENCIL IN THE WORLD, I WOULD WRITE..."

If I had the last pencil in the world I would write...

Sada says: The next section is handwritten in pencil. I know that seems like a no-brainer in a book called Pencil Tales, but the rest of it was typed. Perhaps to better impart the seriousness of this message scrawled by the world's lone pencil.

November 14, 2059

I know that in a few hundred years someone will find this and wonder what a pencil was. Pencils were things used for writing. They are made of wood and lead. (I am using a pencil to write this right now. Trees have wood in them. I have heard from my grandmother (who lived in the 90's) When she was a little girl, at her school (and in the whole state) was celebrating "Earth Day."

Sada says: Grammar and punctuation have degenerated by 2059. Also, trees have wood in them!

Earth Day was a time to think about our Earth, how to save it. At my grandmother's school they gave out seedlings to everyone. The purpose was to have 500 children plant them to provide more oxygen for us + more wood, etc. Earth Day also encouraged people to recycle. Obviously, no one did, or there would be a much better Earth today. This pencil is about to brea (k)

BY ARIA KAWILDON

Sada says: The final bit was in pen (which we all know is like pencil) because the last pencil in the world couldn't stand to write another word about the farce that was Earth Day. And apparently the last pencil sharpener in the world bit the dust first.

Here's my question: What kind of damage would we need to do in the next 49 years in order for a fifth grader to wind up with possession of the world's last pencil? Man, we better start recycling!

NEXT TIME: What is quite possibly the storytelling-est picture of all time. It contains an exercise montage. And a third grader with cleavage.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

I haven't had time to snark all of Lauren Lowsky, 100% babysitter, so I'm sneaking in a quickie first. This short story was an entry in my fifth grade school journal, and I thought it was totally eeeeeeerie and could definitely get me a gig writing for The Preteen Twilight Zone. (And yes, by that I mean Are You Afraid of the Dark? Or was that more like Tales from the Preteen Crypt? Discuss.)

3/14/89

Two Friends: The Story of Friendship

Once upon a summer day, two friends, Janet and Heather, were sitting in the grass.

"I don't want to move." Heather said stubbornly, crying

"I don't want you to either." said Janet, crying, too. "But you have to promise me we'll always be best friends, no matter what. If the end of the world comes, I'll still be there for you."

These five... er, six... words I swear to you. But awww, how sweet. If the end of the world comes, I'll totally be there for all of YOU GUYS! We'll hang out in my underground (or inner-tree) bunker and play MASH until we can play MASH no more. And maybe kiss some Chad Allen posters and choreograph a new routine to "I've Had the Time of My Life." We'll go out in a blaze of 1989 glory. If anyone can find nonperishable Cool Ranch Doritos, it is ON.

"I promise." said Heather.

"Here," said Janet, taking off her necklace. "I want you to have this." She handed it to Heather.

"Your shell necklace!" gasped Heather. "The one your mother gave you before she died. OH, I can't!"

It's nice how the girls are so helpful with the exposition! Also, if my mother were on her deathbed and bequeathed to me a SHELL NECKLACE, I might get rid of it too.

My mom died and all I got was this stupid shell necklace.

"Take it." said Janet.

"Here," said Heather, digging into her pocket. "I want you to have this."

"Your lucky stone! The one you found on the beach! Thank you!"

They both have special beach objects! You have goosebumps already, just admit it.

"Thank you!" cried Heather. And then she was gone.

In a puff of smoke? What happened? Did she just apparate? Is she moving to HOGWARTS?

7 years later, when the girls were 17, there was a plane crash. Only one girl was killed. Her name was Janet McCall. Heather cried for days after she heard. Janet had been coming to visit Heather. Heather had never worn the shell necklace, but now she took it out of it's case and put it on.

Like, just how ugly is that necklace? Seriously.

Two days after Janet was killed, there was a second plane crash. Only one person died. Her name was Heather Dobbins. She was going to her friend Janet McCall's funeral. So, then they were together again.

Woooo-oooooo-ooooooh! Wasn't it EERIE, with the exchange of oceanic items and the really implausible only-one-person-on-the-entire-plane-dying thing happening TWICE? You'll be up all night trying to make sense of it, I know.

So, what was the story of friendship? A few theories:

• Visiting your be-fri means risking your life. Even if she's already dead and you haven't seen her in seven years and you're just going to pay your respects to her family or whatever, you're pretty much taking your life into your hands.
  
• Wearing a fugly shell necklace might just cause your plane to crash. (That necklace is so cursed. I want a sequel.)
  
• If your friend moves away, forget her. You can give her your lucky stone, but you'll never see her alive again. But don't worry! You two can totally hang in the afterlife!
  

NEXT TIME: We'll finally be babysat by Lauren Lowsky.

Until then, since I know how much you like reading other peoples' diaries, you might want to check out this post on Jezebel. I'm not the only one who likes to embarrass myself on the Internets!

Adria and Cynthia Tyler, the Characters Whose Books Have the Longest Titles Ever

Previously we met Adrianne Tyler, best known for her übershiny eyes and for masterminding acts of pseudo-vandalism.


(Hey, are those rhinestone-studded moccasins on her feet? I vote yea.)

But she looks surprisingly nondevious, don't you think? What would make a mild-mannered fifth grade girl act out in such a slimy-food-smearing and school-hating way? If you guessed "problems at home," well, pat yourself on the back, my friend. The Book Information file elaborates:

ADRIA TYLER, THE GIRL WHO HAD SOMETHING MORE THAN NOTHING

Adria Tyler has never been one of those people who think they have nothing. Adria knows she has something. Even though her father is dead, her mother can't find a job, one of her sisters wants to leave the country, the other one is pregnant, her brother refuses to speak, and her best friend tells her she's never speaking to her again, Adria won't give up. She can't. She's the only thing holding her family together.

Whoa! Those are, like, ACTUAL PROBLEMS! Granted, most of them aren't really Adria's problems per se, but they are problems all the same. Death of a parent? Teenage pregnancy, for crying out loud?! I, for one, am a little taken aback.

I even started writing the Kim vs. Adria fight scene:

"What?" shrieked Kim. "What do you mean? You promised, Adria. You promised you'd come over after school today."

"Sorry." I said sheepishly. "Really I am. It's just... mom went out for a job interview, and she needed a sitter for Mike. I'm sorry... you know how it is, Kim."

She lowered her eyes. "Yeah," she sniffed. "Your family always comes first with you."

I shrugged.

"You promised." she accused.

"Kim, I thought you'd understand." I argued. "I thought..."

"You thought what?" she asked coldly. "Did you think we'd be friends forever? If you did, you were WRONG." she yelled, yanking off her half of our "BEST FRIENDS" necklace. She threw it on the ground and stomped off.

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! Oh wait, that's it. Guess the friendship pact has been violated.

But since Adria's family always comes first with her anyway, let's take a look-see at the Tyler family portrait.

They all look surprisingly upbeat, especially considering the hot mess described in the preadolescent promo material. Carolyn Tyler, a mother at 22 and an unemployed widow at 37? Well, yes, but if you believe her sweatshirt, also a SUPER MOM.

Then there's Julie, an entire Lifetime movie unto herself. In most versions of this story (which were written in my mind and not on actual paper), her baby daddy was Kim Fielding's 15-year-old brother, Roger. That's right, the one who served his little brother a snack of racquet balls topped with shaving cream. Try to push aside the frightening images of Roger giving the baby a dribble bottle for a second to ponder this: THAT DUDE WAS GETTING LAID?

In the family portrait, however, we see nary a baby bump. In fact, Julie looks like she's ready for the Homecoming dance or something. Check out the overly sweet sweetheart neckline. If that dress had shoulders, they would totes be padded.

Adria has even perked up for the, uh, drawing op. Yes, she still gravitates toward henleys and nondescript skirts, but check out her hip squiggle earrings. And she and Mike the Mute are so stoked, they appear to be floating in midair! Be sure to note the Mute's Chuck Taylors and brontosaurus shirt (or whatever they're calling the brontosaurus these days).

But it's 9½-year-old Cynthia (aka The One Who Hates the World) who is really the star of this portrait—mostly due to her sleeveless sweater dress, totally '80s triangle belt, and array of squiggly jewelry. You'd never guess that she spends her days coming up with highly unrealistic plots for sneaking out of the country. (More on that in a sec.)

But first, don't you want to see the layout of the second floor of their house? That was a rhetorical question—obviously you would love to! (Go ahead and click if you want to see just how bizarrely T-shaped Adria's room is.)



First off, how enormous is their house? You can fit about 10 full-size beds in Cynthia's room alone! Or 15 Def Leppard area rugs, one of which appears to be sprawled out on her floor. Uh, maybe the Tylers should think about downsizing, what with the prolonged unemployment and all. Just a thought.

Obviously I had never seen a blueprint in my life. My parents would always look at my floor plans and be all, "Where are the stairs? How about the closets? The doors?" Frigging realistic killjoys. As you can see, I tried to appease them by marking all the doors in this one. Closets and stairs were fraught with spatial complications that I was having no part of.

Then I started laying down some background info for each character. But naturally, I only made it through the first two.

INFO FOR ADRIA TYLER
Characters

Name: Michael Tyler, Mike

Hair: Dark Brown, messy, looks like it's never brushed, short

Age: 6

Eyes: Dark Brown, bright [It's hereditary!]

Best Friend: Mrs. Bottenhigher, his teacher

Likes: Mrs. Bottenhigher, school, T.V.,

Dislikes: Talking, the fact that dad died, questions

Wants to: Bring dad back, become a super hero, solve everyone's problems

Description: Small, timid, frightened of death, smart, couch potato, eager to learn about everything,

PLAGIARISM ALERT! The whole "child going mute after his dad dies" subplot was definitely lifted from the movie Scrooged. Bill Murray's secretary, portrayed by Alfre Woodard, has a son who has also stopped talking following his father's death. But he heartwarmingly/cheesily busts out the Tiny Tim "God bless us, everyone" line at the film's close. [Please note that most of Scrooged is not in the vein of cheese, and is actually fairly awesome.]

Naturally, Mike too would break his vow of silence, probably in the book's dramatic final scene. Or, oooooh, maybe Julie would give birth in an elevator—because that was always a very popular, yet disturbing, plot twist in '80s sitcoms—and Mike, through some plot contrivance stroke of fate would somehow be the only one with her, and be forced to deliver the child! I mean, if ALF can deliver a baby in an elevator, I don't see why a 6-year-old suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can't. At the very least, it would call for some dialogue.

INFO FOR ADRIA TYLER
Character

Name: Cynthia Marie Tyler, call me Cynthia

Age: 9½

Hair: Brown, just above shoulders, side bangs(wavy), Eyes: Brown, soft

Best Friend: Alexis Creen

Likes: Alexis, creation pages [don't worry, we'll get to those], Def Leppard [in case the area rug didn't tip you off], writing

Dislikes: The world, school, usually my family,

Wants to: Sneak out of the country [um, hate to burst your bubble, Cynthia, but you'll still be in "the world"], help Alexis be more creative

Description: Cute, stubborn, creative, unusual, original, often loud, always shares ideas, can't keep a secret, [Yeah, that definitely won't be a problem when she tries to sneak out of the country.]

The rest of the stuff in this folder is Cynthia-related. You know what that means: creation pages and abject world hatred!

The world is a hateful lousy place. I wish you'd all drop dead. No one cares no one understands. I hate you all

Cynthia M. Tyler
C. Tyler
Cynthia Marie Tyler
C.M. Tyler
C.M.T.
C.T.
C.

The hell? Shouldn't she be coming up with aliases or something?

WAYS TO SNEAK OUT OF THE COUNTRY:

1.) SAY I'M MIDGET.
2.) PAY SOMEONE TO BE (FAKE) PARENTS.
3.) BRIBE!

WHAT I NEED TO DO:
1.) GET MONEY
2.) GET PASSPORT PICTURES TAKEN
3.) PACK
4.) GET CREDIT CARDS
5.) FIND SOMEWHERE TO GO!

Brilliant! I love how she's packing before she's even selected a destination. I think the midget thing could work if the Lightening Bolts are somehow working security at the airport. They'd probably also take a bribe.

And here's call-me-Cynthia's "creation page":

haiku

def leppard is cool
move to the beat of the song
radio blasting

Wow, she is really into Def Leppard. I have two Def Leppard–centric elementary school memories:

1) Playing "Pour Some Sugar On Me" on the jukebox at a bevy of Pizza Huts while on vacation. It was ALWAYS the #1 requested song, no matter the location of the Pizza Hut. Red light, yellow light, green light, GO!

2) Being in Gym class and tucking one arm inside my oversized Gym shirt to emulate the one-armed drummer. Which I might feel bad about if Rick Allen hadn't subsequently beat his wife with his remaining arm.

Sometimes I wonder by Cynthia M. Tyler

I wonder how the world got to be round
How people learned to be
How things make sound
and
How God thought of me

In case you haven't caught on yet, Creation Page = Unbelievably bad poetry.

C.M.T.

Creative
Young
No
Terrific
Horrid
Intelligent
Awful

Oh man, an acrostic, the sorriest excuse for a poem. Well, the H definitely doesn't stand for Humble, I can tell you that much. But what's up with No?

All By Myself

I'm all by myself and all alone
Sad as can be
I'm all by myself except
For me, myself, and I

Cynthia Marie Tyler...

Is smart, witty, wonderful, creative, nasty, cute in a way, true, and me

Nasty?

I'm 10

I'm 10 I'm 10
O Joy O Joy
The world is at peace
And I'm old enough to enjoy it

Because life cannot be enjoyed when you're a mere 9-year-old.

THE END OF CREATIVE PAGE

But it's not really the end, because all of this creative creativity was supposed to inspire Cynthia's boring friend Alexis to come up with some craptacular verses of her own. Here she is, Alexis Creen:


I was always drawing them in the most natural poses, wasn't I? Here, for example, Alexis is getting ready for her crucifixion. With braces!

ALEXIS'S CREATION PAGE

Attentive
Learning
Economical
X-tra Special
Intelligent
So-so

Oh, Alexis. I know I made fun of Cynthia's inflated ego, but So-so? Attentive? Economical??? That's the best you could come up with? More like Arid, Easily influenced, and Self-loathing. But on the bright side, maybe she can help Cynthia save up for her big trip.

Action-packed fun for everyone
Starring Alexis L. Creen
And some other people too

Huh? My best guess here is that Alexis was an aspiring actress. And this was the poorly titled film that would make her famous?

Christmas is a time for
Giving
Loving
Caring
Sharing
And
Getting everything you ask for

Nothing like a little holiday brattiness cheer.

Famous

If I was famous (I will be soon) I'd be happy to sign autographs for my adoring fans. They would be happy that I was famous instead of them. (Ha ha)

C$R$E$A$T$I$O$N

THE END
OF ALEXIS'S FAMOUS CREATION PAGE

And the end of the hodgepodge contents of this folder. Egad. It's amazing that hatred for the entire earth managed to be the more lighthearted topic here.

NEXT TIME: We'll try to follow a more linear narrative with Syra Cuse. God willing.