I read a story once about the celebrated Irish mathematician and physicist William Rowan Hamilton. After he died, his executors discovered plates with the remains of dessicated, half-eaten meals on them, buried amongst the papers on his desk.
My theory was that if I lose enough pens, the place where they go will eventually get full, and burst, freeing enough pens to supply the worlds writing implement needs for several hundred years.
It's a bad plan, because I just found my pen behind my ear.
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I think I should one-up him by losing a small child.
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It's a bad plan, because I just found my pen behind my ear.
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