“So this is mightier than the sword?”
I ask myself, and then,
Thrusting aside my weapon,
I stab with my fountain pen.
My wounded opponent staggers back.
A job well done, I think.
But are those droplets on the floor
Blood? Or just red ink?
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8 Great Storytellers 
Nice one!
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Is this a Parker that I see before me, the handle towards my hand? Come, let me clutch thee, that I may poke the one who spoke. Rum-nausea. Nemesis. Whate’er.
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A pen in the hand is worth two to the heart. So stop me, pray, before I dither or wither away.
Moral: better to be stabbed with a pen than with Shake’s spear.
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I looked for a Parker today, but couldn’t find one. I did find a Conklin that I rescued from my father’s office in 1956. It’s in my hand and worth $350, now. I have no idea what it would be worth two of. I shall not be poking anyone with it.
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