Dear Students,

   Enough is enough. Since the day we arrived on shelves, we have suffered abuse at your hands. You students who relentlessly torture us, the world’s best pencil: the Ticonderoga HB #2. 

   Not only are we reliable writers, but we help you ace your exams, write love letters to your crushes and doodle during your lectures. And what do we get in return?

   For years, teachers have handed our dearest cousins to you, only for them to never be seen again. We’ve heard many tales from the few relatives who made it back in one piece: stuffed alongside the never-ending exam papers into a roller backpack, living with the dust bunnies under someone’s couch, forgotten on some student’s exam table, only to be grabbed by another. And these are only the least mortifying of the tales. But still the question remains, where did the others go?

   Going missing may be the least of our worries, however, when it comes to you students. For some reason, you guys just can’t keep your grimy, grubby little hands off of us. Do you really think we enjoy being held with your sweaty, dirty hands after PE? Because we can tell you right now: we do not. And for some strange reason that we cannot comprehend, students always feel the need to involve their mouth with us, a writing utensil of all things. Once we see the teeth, it’s one of two possibilities, equally disgusting:  A) we lose our glorious eraser head that is the center of our pride, or B) we get covered in your slobber.

   Penny Pencilworth, the former Miss Universe of the Ticonderogans, was relentlessly tormented at the hands of you students. Known for her once glistening yellow finish and sleek sharp lead, Pencilworth is now only a shadow of the beauty she once was. Just last week, she returned after several months of being lended to the most notorious student in the eighth period Algebra class. With a chipped, rugged lead tip and various questionable chew marks all over her, Pencilworth returned almost unrecognizable. When asked to be interviewed, she declined, cursing out the entire student population for maiming her looks.

   And so after years of your cruel torture, we Ticonderoga pencils have had enough. It’s time we took a stand for ourselves. On the first of April, all Ticonderoga pencils shall go on strike, and students will be left with nothing but ballpoint pens that won’t write.

Worst of luck,

The Ticonderoga Pencils