Editing The Pen Addict 381/transcript (section)

== David's Tale Evaluation ==


'''Myke Hurley:''' oh, so here's here's where I mean, I think that David answered themselves about why this isn't Hall of Fame worthy that it was just a steel box nib. Yeah, exactly. You know, I think we've we've established a precedent that if there is damage to something, we have to be talking expensive.

'''Brad Dowdy:''' Right. Although Yeah, I was talking one of the most famous stories we've had during horror story time, which ended up not being a Hall of Famer was our friend Rich Dix, who's, you know, left the pin case on top of the car with the canalea and all that lowers like extensive monetary damage on that one. And we didn't Hall of Fame that one. And I can't remember the reason why I think it was I don't I don't even remember. But that I always remember that story is one that didn't make the Hall of

'''Myke Hurley:''' Fame. And that was some extensive damage on that one. Which one was that one? It was the canalea pen. It was like a look out like three pens. Several nice pens. Why didn't we? Yeah, like it was on the

'''Brad Dowdy:''' top of the car and I think got run over or something like that. I can't remember. No,

'''Myke Hurley:''' that's what I think happened. It didn't get run over. I think that might have been my thing. It's like, I think it was like, but it was lost. It was lost. But but losing something, I feel like it's not enough of a story because we all lose things. Yeah. Lost and never seen again, as opposed to

'''Brad Dowdy:''' misplaced and found crushed. It's a different story. Yeah. Oh, like lost and then heard as it

'''Myke Hurley:''' barreled under the wheels of an 18 wheeler. And I watched the dust of my favorite pens fly out into

'''Brad Dowdy:''' the distance, you know? Yeah. So you read that first one. It gave me uncomfortable flashbacks. And then I have to go right into the second one from Eugene that says horror stories plumbing edition. Oh, no, Brad. Are you sure you want to do this? We got to fight through. We got to fight through the pain, Myke. So let's see what Eugene has to say. I like I said, I promise you, I did not read these before and I know I wouldn't I didn't know what Dave was going to say there. And now I'm really worried at just the title of Eugene's plumbing theme to today's. Yeah. Yeah. Listening to all the recent horror stories made me think if I ever experienced something even somewhat horrific, at the least very disappointing. I think I have. It involved stinky pipes and toilets. Oh, come on. It's a family show. I work in the hospitality maintenance industry. That right there begs the question, why do you carry a fountain pen at all times? Because I like them, Eugene says. I'm on my feet most of the day, get dirty and have to climb all over, including attics and plumbing quarters. Anyway, one day I was replacing a toilet in one of the guest rooms. I took the entire thing off, investigated the problem, covered my nose with a clean rag and bent down to take off the old wax ring. Then I heard a clinging sound of my TWSBI 580 with orange ink hit the side of the four inch pipe when it slid out of my left shirt pocket. I stopped abruptly. So I felt 5% more relieved thinking that I could retrieve it. Quickly snapped a glove on as if the pen was drowning in smelly goo. Then put a new garbage bag over the said glove and my hand up to the elbow and went inside the stinky toilet pipe, feeling the way down the stinky old pipes. This is a very stinky story. I don't think we need to keep using that word. Hoping to find the clear bodied pen waiting

'''Myke Hurley:''' to be saved. No, but here's the thing. You lost this pen, Eugene. This pen is dead to you now.

'''Brad Dowdy:''' Listen, Myke, if he doesn't get that pen out, he's going to be back there tearing that toilet out again, knowing what's down there, waiting for further maintenance. This is self-preservation at this point. No, I will not accept this. Having the glove and the bag over my fingers must have decreased my ability to make sudden movements with my fingers. So as soon as I felt it within the tip of my fingers, I still couldn't reach far enough to grab it. I felt it starting to slowly slide down and then quietly disappeared into the black hole known as the sewer line. It was my first most expensive pen ever, too. I felt bad and thought to myself, what in the world just happened? I stunk like sewage now. My pen is gone. As soon as I went to pick up the aforementioned clean rag, I covered my face with. Field notes plopped out of my right shirt pocket and landed straight onto the same hole.

'''Myke Hurley:''' What is wrong with you, Eugene? What are you doing?

'''Brad Dowdy:''' Luckily, it stayed on top, but it also stunk. This whole situation stunk. So I stood up and decided I needed to take my break before something else falls down there. As soon as I exited the room, I got a call over the radio to help a guest with luggage. What a stinking great first impression upon checking in. At least I was able to spray some air fresheners the housekeepers use on my pants and shoes. I still wonder to this day what the new guests thought once they saw or smelled me while I was helping them. Anyway, just my two cents of what happened when I was getting into fountain pens many years ago. I've since spent way too much money on pens, inks, and notebooks, but none have seen or will ever see the missing orange Twisby. Rest in peace, little guy. Rest in peace.

'''Myke Hurley:''' I don't know what to say about this.