Thank you Mark Twain

Not sure if I've mentioned it on here yet, but I bought a 12 pack of those cheap-ass Bic pens at the beginning of this quarter and I have been using the same pen, the first one I pulled out of the pack, since then. I was absolutely determined to use every bit of ink from that pen before moving on to the next one, and so on, until I'd used every drop of ink in that whole pack of pens. You know how that never happens? You never completely use up those pens, and then you lose them and they inevitably disappear somewhere.
I was determined to keep those 12 poor pens from the terrible fate of pen island (hurr hurrrr, penis land), the place where perfectly good pens go when their owners inexplicably leave them somewhere, decide they are no longer worthy of being used, or otherwise forget about them. Here is an explanatory diagram courtesy of google:

Those poor pens.And so close to penis land, too, how humiliating. So, in dedicating myself to this cause, I had moste valiantly saved those 12 expendable Bic pens from this terrible fate! Or so I thought. My attempt at heroism was violently thwarted Saturday by a vicious beast with jaws that bite and claws that catch. Also known as my beagle, Josie. She decided that it would be a splendid plan to gnaw on that pen, that pen which had been so lovingly carried around by me all quarter long, and that was less than a centimeter from being out of ink. I debated laying out a crime scene in my living room when I discovered what had transpired, but I already knew the killer, so a crime scene investigation would have been moot. Josie's such a sadist: Exhibit A.

Imagine my absolute despair, my rage, the onset of a spiraling depression when I realized how futile all my efforts had been. I had tried to save this pen from pen island, but condemned it to a fate far worse! My thoughts were a jumble. What would happen to the other pens I had bought? Would some horrific fate befall them as well? Are cheap pens not meant to escape pen island at all? Or, worse yet, is it their desired destiny to meet up with all their forgotten brethren on that island? Am I holding the other 11 pens from pen island against their will? Would it be better for me to lose them all on purpose? Or to not use them at all? Or would that destroy their dreams of fulfilling their ultimate purpose in life? I became more and more overwhelmed the more I thought about this.

As you can see, I am going through a tremendous upheaval in my core beliefs right now. It has been two days since I discovered the mangled body of that pen, and I still have no answers to these essential questions. Who knows what will come into question next? The thought is not comforting. I am wary of everything, lest it poses another life-shaking question I am unable to answer.