Essay On The Autobiography Of A Pen

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Essay On The Autobiography Of A Pen

My name is Mr Parker Platinum and I was born eight years ago in a big Parker factory. I came out of the factory in an attractive packing. A sales man sold me along with my brothers to an owner of a pen store in a big city. I was then displayed on the shelf of his store.

One day some girl students entered the shop and bought four of us. The next day they started using us. I was feeling very proud of my appearance and so did the pretty girl who used me. I was very comfortable while I stayed between her soft fingers. She took my great care. While I was not used, she kept me in her compass box. Thus, I received a new big home. I helped her nearly for three years in writing many competitions, answering the examination papers and in doing different writing works. A few times, she had dropped me and thus, my first refill had lost its smoothness. However, I had no problems in making another Parker refill work within me.

Unfortunately, one day a mischievous boy from her class got hold of me. He stole me. He used me very roughly for two days and cracked my body from the centre. Later he went and sold me to a pen-repairer for a throwaway price. The man changed my refill, polished me, stuck my crack and sold me to an office peon who passed that way. Although he did not know much to read and write, he took good care of me. He kept me safely in his shirt’s pocket while travelling. I helped him to write names of different I people, their phone numbers and addresses. He also did some calculations in his small diary when his wife asked him to buy vegetables and other things from the market.

He never allowed me to be used by anybody else. One day while he was busy talking to a lady sweeper in a bank, someone asked him for a pen in order to fill a form. While my master was busy talking, I was quietly carried away by that man. He sold me to a sandwich maker standing at the corner of a street for a free sandwich.

Sandwich maker was a careless man. He did not know anything about reading and writing. One day he dropped me and I was soon picked up by a college going boy. He made me remind of my first mistress. He replaced my refill with a new one. Once again, I was of great help to a student. I helped him in writing his notes, projects and answering his examination papers. He is now about to receive his degree. I can proudly say that I am mainly responsible for it.

I began my life’s journey with a school student. I hope to end it someday with a college student.

Essay On The Autobiography Of A Pen


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