How mysterious – a box of red Ticonderoga pencils in my work mailbox. Now, I haven’t checked that box in months, so I don’t know when they were left there. Here’s the thing – the box says a DOZEN, but there are only ELEVEN in the box.
Now, I work in a newsroom, so it could be one of my editors telling me, albeit in a very passive-aggressive way, to be more careful with my scripts.
Or it could be a veiled threat. Change your ways, or I will sharpen these and stab you. The red lead represents your blood.
Years ago at an office I worked at, everyone’s pen/pencil cup overnight had the addition of 2 or 3 custom printed pencils that said ‘Nasty Girl’.
Turned out a few days later, one of the secretarial wenchlings revealed she had won a wet t-shirt completion at a local club and someone in the office was gently tweaking her about it. (Nasty Girl was her ‘stage name’ in the contest)
Everybody got a pretty good laugh about it, once we all understood what was up.
*Red! I want red, there’s no substitute for red.
Red! Paint it red, green ain’t mean compared to red.
You don’t know what it does to me,
My crimson intensity
I’m haunted by the mystery,
The mystery of red. *