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"Ow!" she cried.  "That hurts!"

"Well, Ms. Paper," the Pen testily replied, "It's not as if I particularly enjoy being shoved face first into you."

"Who does he think he is?" Paper wailed.  "I was having a lovely time with my fellow pages--"

"--and I with the most delightful highlighter you could ever imagine--"

"--then he scoops us up and proceeds to savagely batter us both!" she finished huffily.

At that exact moment, the Pen was dropped carelessly onto Paper.  Pen felt the grubby paws of Author leave him, and he couldn't help but be extremely relieved at the absence.  Still, he was much closer to the perpetually whining Paper than he particularly wanted to be.  He sighed heavily and wished very much that he was more mobile.  "I suppose that we'll just have to make do," he commented.

xxxxx

"What's he writing?"

"Paper, how on earth would I know?  Does it look like I can understand the speech of humans?  Besides, he's just spilling my ink onto you.  Isn't it you who can see the big picture?" Pen responded peevishly.

"What picture?  I thought that they were words!" she cried, dismayed.

Pen sighed once more as he was discarded for the second time, this time a few centimeters away from Paper.  He could still hear her soft, whispery voice asking him all manner of inane questions.

xxxxx

"September 19th, September 19th!  Attention all, it is September 19th!" Wall Calendar announced, sounding very much pleased with himself.  Pen thought idly that he was much too full of himself, considering that it was the ink on the Wall Calendar that did any good.  Of course, he reminded himself, he could be a touch biased.

Paper interrupted his half-hearted musings with a very odd and random comment.  "I simply hate computers," she told Pen forlornly.

Though he didn't understand this hatred in the least, Pen made a very comforting noise.  After all, she sounded truly upset this time.

"Y'see," she continued, "People do all of their writing and drawing on computers now.  There's no need for scratchy, forest-consuming, messy paper."  Her voice was very small by this point, and had that ring of true misery that was not often heard in office supplies.

Pen was silent for a minute, waiting patiently for the obvious that was sure to come to him soon.  All he would have to do is state that, and she would be her normal, twittery self again.  Pen was very good at that.  "Well...there are printers, aren't there?" he ventured after a moment, hoping that that point would be obvious enough to ease her suffering.

"Printers use delightful glossy paper.  Besides, everyone uses those shiny new compact disks now.  They're all the rage apparently, and they hold so much more than one sheet of paper..." she parried, not willing to be pacified so easily.

Pen didn't say anything for a long time.  Then, "You have writing on you, don't you?  Isn't that good enough?"

Paper didn't respond right away.  When she finally did, she was so quiet and sad that Pen could barely hear her.  "September 19th.  One month since Author came to visit."

xxxxx

"Owwww..."

Pen nearly twitched at her keening.  "Paper, you complained so bitterly about be neglected, but you complain even louder when you're used!" he snapped, willing her silently to please shut up.

She ignored him and went on, "Can't you be...I don't know, softer or something?  Why couldn't Author be Painter?"

Pen tried very hard to ignore her and do his job.  He knew that he would be very useless indeed if Author was Painter.

xxxxx

Pen was having an adventure.  Child had hurried into the study, knocking things every which way.  He himself was now making residence under the desk.  Unfortunately, under-the-desk was very dull without anyone to console or ignore.

"Hello?"  A very little voice made him rethink that.

"Hello," he replied, wondering who had called for him.  "I am Pen...who are you?"

"I'm Pocket Dictionary," the very little voice responded shyly.  She paused for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed with the conversation.  "I...I've never met a Pen before.  Highlighter...a few times..but never a Pen.  Are Pens nice?" she questioned.

Pen thought on this question.  "I think that I'm very nice, but..."  He thought of Paper.  "I'm sure that there are some who would disagree."

"Disagree: to have a different opinion."

"Pardon?"

He could hear the blush in her voice.  "I'm sorry...that's my job.  To teach people how to speak and what words mean," she very totteringly explained.

"Ah..."  Pen couldn't think of what to say for a moment, then realized that this might be a very good chance to learn something he'd always wanted to know.  "Say, do you know what an Author is?" he asked.

Pocket Dictionary hesitated.  "Um...author has a very long definition...but I can tell you it short!  An Author makes magic with a Paper and a Pen!" she revealed, sounding quite proud of herself for being able to compact her answer.

Pen wondered whether he'd ever be able to tell Paper that definition.

xxxxx

The next day, Pen flew (with only a little help from Author) back up to Paper.  He was very happy to be home, and likewise, Paper was very happy to have him there.

"I missed you, Pen!  It's just not the same when I'm by myself.  It's very lonely," she told him earnestly, her voice bright.

"Even though I poke you horribly?" he teased.

"Even though you poke me horribly," she confirmed seriously.

And somehow, Pen found her mix-up adorable rather than annoying.

xxxxx

"Good," said the Author.  "It's rather difficult to make magic if the pen and paper won't cooperate."

Description
"Ow!" she cried.  "That hurts!"

"Well, Ms. Paper," the Pen testily replied, "It's not as if I particularly enjoy being shoved face first into you."

"Who does he think he is?" Paper wailed.  "I was having a lovely time with my fellow pages--"

"--and I with the most delightful highlighter you could ever imagine--"

"--then he scoops us up and proceeds to savagely batter us both!" she finished huffily.

At that exact moment, the Pen was dropped carelessly onto Paper.  Pen felt the grubby paws of Author leave him, and he couldn't help but be extremely relieved at the absence.  Still, he was much closer to the perpetually whining Paper than he particularly wanted to be.  He sighed heavily and wished very much that he was more mobile.  "I suppose that we'll just have to make do," he commented.

xxxxx

"What's he writing?"

"Paper, how on earth would I know?  Does it look like I can understand the speech of humans?  Besides, he's just spilling my ink onto you.  Isn't it you who can see the big picture?" Pen responded peevishly.

"What picture?  I thought that they were words!" she cried, dismayed.

Pen sighed once more as he was discarded for the second time, this time a few centimeters away from Paper.  He could still hear her soft, whispery voice asking him all manner of inane questions.

xxxxx

"September 19th, September 19th!  Attention all, it is September 19th!" Wall Calendar announced, sounding very much pleased with himself.  Pen thought idly that he was much too full of himself, considering that it was the ink on the Wall Calendar that did any good.  Of course, he reminded himself, he could be a touch biased.

Paper interrupted his half-hearted musings with a very odd and random comment.  "I simply hate computers," she told Pen forlornly.

Though he didn't understand this hatred in the least, Pen made a very comforting noise.  After all, she sounded truly upset this time.

"Y'see," she continued, "People do all of their writing and drawing on computers now.  There's no need for scratchy, forest-consuming, messy paper."  Her voice was very small by this point, and had that ring of true misery that was not often heard in office supplies.

Pen was silent for a minute, waiting patiently for the obvious that was sure to come to him soon.  All he would have to do is state that, and she would be her normal, twittery self again.  Pen was very good at that.  "Well...there are printers, aren't there?" he ventured after a moment, hoping that that point would be obvious enough to ease her suffering.

"Printers use delightful glossy paper.  Besides, everyone uses those shiny new compact disks now.  They're all the rage apparently, and they hold so much more than one sheet of paper..." she parried, not willing to be pacified so easily.

Pen didn't say anything for a long time.  Then, "You have writing on you, don't you?  Isn't that good enough?"

Paper didn't respond right away.  When she finally did, she was so quiet and sad that Pen could barely hear her.  "September 19th.  One month since Author came to visit."

xxxxx

"Owwww..."

Pen nearly twitched at her keening.  "Paper, you complained so bitterly about be neglected, but you complain even louder when you're used!" he snapped, willing her silently to please shut up.

She ignored him and went on, "Can't you be...I don't know, softer or something?  Why couldn't Author be Painter?"

Pen tried very hard to ignore her and do his job.  He knew that he would be very useless indeed if Author was Painter.

xxxxx

Pen was having an adventure.  Child had hurried into the study, knocking things every which way.  He himself was now making residence under the desk.  Unfortunately, under-the-desk was very dull without anyone to console or ignore.

"Hello?"  A very little voice made him rethink that.

"Hello," he replied, wondering who had called for him.  "I am Pen...who are you?"

"I'm Pocket Dictionary," the very little voice responded shyly.  She paused for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed with the conversation.  "I...I've never met a Pen before.  Highlighter...a few times..but never a Pen.  Are Pens nice?" she questioned.

Pen thought on this question.  "I think that I'm very nice, but..."  He thought of Paper.  "I'm sure that there are some who would disagree."

"Disagree: to have a different opinion."

"Pardon?"

He could hear the blush in her voice.  "I'm sorry...that's my job.  To teach people how to speak and what words mean," she very totteringly explained.

"Ah..."  Pen couldn't think of what to say for a moment, then realized that this might be a very good chance to learn something he'd always wanted to know.  "Say, do you know what an Author is?" he asked.

Pocket Dictionary hesitated.  "Um...author has a very long definition...but I can tell you it short!  An Author makes magic with a Paper and a Pen!" she revealed, sounding quite proud of herself for being able to compact her answer.

Pen wondered whether he'd ever be able to tell Paper that definition.

xxxxx

The next day, Pen flew (with only a little help from Author) back up to Paper.  He was very happy to be home, and likewise, Paper was very happy to have him there.

"I missed you, Pen!  It's just not the same when I'm by myself.  It's very lonely," she told him earnestly, her voice bright.

"Even though I poke you horribly?" he teased.

"Even though you poke me horribly," she confirmed seriously.

And somehow, Pen found her mix-up adorable rather than annoying.

xxxxx

"Good," said the Author.  "It's rather difficult to make magic if the pen and paper won't cooperate."