The Pen is Mightier

by J. A. Cipriano

  18

  A half-hour later, Marty and I wandered out of Dewey’s. I was pleasantly full, and while part of me wanted to use the pen to have some fun, I was tired. It was time to take a nice long sleep. Then I could start my plan for world domination.

  “Ready to head home?” I asked, glancing at Marty as we approached the Audi. “Maybe grab some beers on the way?”

  “Yeah,” Marty nodded to me. “I haven’t had a night off in a while.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you got me to quit my job.”

  “I have a way with people.” I shrugged, still feeling a bit guilty about that even though he wouldn’t need to work that stupid job anymore. Of course, he didn’t really know that either. I was going to tell him. Hell, I’d planned to tell him, but I just hadn’t managed it yet.

  I chewed on that thought as we approached the Audi. Maybe I could use the lotto scratchers I’d bought earlier to show him? Yeah, that was what I’d do. Only as I reached for the tickets in my pocket, I heard a shriek from across the parking lot. The suddenness of it was so surprising, I turned toward it in time to see Lisa’s six-foot-five boyfriend smack her across the face.

  As she hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, one hand clutching her cheek, the dude towered over her. Rage swelled up inside me, and my vision flared red around the edges. Only, before I could do anything, Marty charged across the parking lot.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, tennis shoes beating a path across the parking lot as he headed toward the jock who looked up and stared at my friend, eyes dulled by alcohol.

  “Stay out of this, bud,” the football player replied, glancing at my friend with a pair of beady, flat eyes. Behind the alcohol, there was only the cool, calm of a predator. Like a crocodile that liked to beat up women. And as I stared at him, Lisa’s sudden use of makeup all made sense. There was way too much concealer for there not to be something that needed concealing.

  “You’re not supposed to hit a lady,” Marty snapped, nearly to them now. That was when I realized that despite Marty’s rage, there was no way he’d be able to stop that guy. For one, he had at least a hundred pounds and six inches on Marty. For two, my friend couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

  Fortunately, I was pretty sure I could fix that.

  “I said stay out of it,” the jock said, turning toward Marty and squaring his shoulders like he was used to being the biggest, toughest guy in the room.

  Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t, but as I pulled out my pen, I took care of that.

  Make Marty beat the fuck out of that guy.

  “No,” Marty replied, taking a step closer to the jock, so there were only a couple feet between them.

  “Do you know who I am?” the guy barked, hands clenching and unclenching as he stood there staring at my friend dead on and looming over him.

  “Yeah, her ex-boyfriend.” Marty pointed at Lisa, his finger practically shaking with rage. “You don’t ever hit a lady. Didn’t your mama raise you right?”

  Lisa had pulled herself into a sitting position, and as the jock’s eyes flicked to her, she scrunched backward, making an effort to look nearly invisible. Her face flashed with the knowledge that things were about to get way worse.

  “Ex?” The guy laughed, pointing one finger at Lisa. “That’s my woman. You need to shove off and mind your own business before my business gets to minding you. Understand?”

  “Oh, I understand,” Marty deadpanned, grabbing his hand and twisting it as he shifted his hips, knocking the guy off balance.

  Marty stepped through as the guy stumbled, driving the jock face first into the parking lot with bone-crushing force. As the guy screamed in pain, Marty wrenched his arm up behind him.

  “There’s just one problem.” Marty applied some pressure to the hold, nearly forcing the jock’s arm to the breaking point. “You don’t hit women. Not ever.” Marty released the jock’s arm and shoved him away.

  “You’ll pay for that,” the guy snarled through clenched teeth as he sprang to his feet. Only as he did, Marty kicked him right between the legs. His eyes bugged out of his skull as he sank to his knees clutching his junk.

  “Apologize to Lisa,” Marty said, grabbing the bully by the hair and twisting his head so he could see the girl. “Now.” When the guy didn’t immediately respond, Marty slapped him across the face like he was a little bitch. “I’m waiting.” He slapped the guy again.

  “I-I’m sorry,” the jock stuttered, but there was rage in those words. This asshole was only sorry Marty had kicked his ass.

  No. The real problem was that as his forced apology spilled from his stupid throat, I knew we had a problem. Things were going to be a lot worse for Lisa. She would ultimately pay for this, and that was something I couldn’t have.

  “Marty, just let Travis go,” she said, her words cracking mid-syllable. “Before things get worse…”

  “You know him?” Jocky McJockface snarled, and if he’d been angry before, well, he was pissed now.

  As Marty stood over the guy, I realized beating him up wouldn’t do any good. No. It’d take more than getting his ass kicked to make Travis change his ways, and I had just the thing for that.

  Travis leaves Lisa alone forever and never hurts anyone again.

  As the words turned into the pure, unadulterated truth, I wondered if I should add more, should add something to make sure Lisa stayed away from him. Only I didn’t want to do that. While I might be okay with making that douchebag leave her alone, she was free to make her own choices. Besides, it wasn’t like he could hurt her.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” I said, moving toward my friend and clapping him on the shoulder as Travis lay on the ground. Then I turned to Lisa. “I doubt he’ll be bothering you anymore.”

  “Do you think so?” she asked as Marty reached out a hand to help her up.

  “I won’t let him touch you,” he said as she took his hand. The barest hint of a smile flitted across her lips as my friend pulled her to her feet.

  We made it about six steps before tears filled the corners of her eyes and slipped out to run down her cheeks and ruin her makeup. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” Marty asked as I unlocked the Audi.

  “For Travis… he’s not normally…” She swallowed hard, wiping her eyes with the back of her face.

  “I really don’t care, Lisa. You’re the greatest girl on Earth, and he hits you.” Marty shook his head. “I don’t know how to make you see that, but I can at least take you home.”

  “Here,” I said, fishing the keys to the Audi out of my pocket and tossing them to Marty. “You do that, I’ll get myself home.”

  Marty nodded and whispered a silent “thank you” as he caught the keys. Then, giving me a thumbs up, he ushered Lisa into the car.

  19

  As Marty took off in the Audi, it started to rain again. Pulling up the hood of my jacket, I looked around for somewhere to hide from the weather. I needed to find my own way home, which was fine. I could call an Uber on my phone or… my eyes fell on Travis’s truck, and as I stared at it, I smiled.

  After jotting down a quick note, I made my way toward him. He was still sitting on the sidewalk beside the truck, a look of bewilderment on his face. Blood ran down his chin from a cut just beneath his left eye, and while I wasn’t a doctor or anything, I could tell his nose was broken.

  “Hey, I’m going to take your truck,” I said, holding my hand out to him. “Can you give me the keys?”

  “Sure,” he said, blinking twice at me as he said the words. It was almost like he wasn’t hearing or seeing me. Without another word, he rummaged in his pocket and found his keys. Then he tossed them to me underhand.

  I caught them as the sky rumbled ominously and fat raindrops began to fall. That was going to suck.

  Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the door to his truck and climbed inside. I was immediately assaulted by the smell of spearmint, and as I tried to blink a
way the smell assaulting my throat, eyes, and nose, I couldn’t help but wonder why the smell so strong.

  Fortunately, I didn’t see any dead bodies or anything, but my search did turn up a couple of those curiously strong air fresheners I’d seen on television. Well, that wouldn’t do.

  I shut the door and made a quick note to get rid of the smell. As the scent faded away and rain began to pound at the windshield and roof, I sat there for a moment looking out at Travis. He was still sitting there on the curb, and while I thought he was an asshole, I couldn’t quite understand why he was still sitting there. Shouldn’t he have left?

  Had I written something that would make him do that? Only, a quick glance at my notepad revealed nothing. Weird.

  I shut my eyes for a second and counted to five, trying to put him out of my mind. Only when I opened my eyes, I found him still sitting there. It was a bit strange, and I suddenly felt bad, although I didn’t know why.

  “Dammit. Why am I such a nice person?” I grumbled before writing another note.

  Travis goes inside until the storm passes.

  No sooner had the words appeared on the page did he get up and march his happy ass toward the door. After all, Dewey’s wasn’t closed or anything, and as he opened the door and shuffled inside, I felt a little better about it.

  Most of me didn’t know why I’d done it, but all I could say was that I’d just taken his truck and his girl, and even though he was a douche, I still felt bad about it. Goddamned morals. They were going to be the death of me.

  Deciding to put it out of my mind, I started the truck, and as it roared to life, Nickelback came on through the speakers. I blinked a bit, looking at the stereo for a second and frowned. That was no good. No. What I needed was some driving music.

  A quick flick of the pen later, I had Metallica blaring through the speakers. Perfect.

  I pulled out onto the street in a squeal of burning rubber. The truck was a bit different from my Kia, and it took a bit of getting used to, but as I punched through the city streets at well over the speed limit, I found myself having to stop way too often for it to be fun thanks to all the red lights.

  That wouldn’t do.

  Smiling way too much, I used my magic pen to make sure I never hit a red light again, and surprisingly, it worked. Then, because I was feeling particularly spry, I wrote down another line.

  Have all the driving skills of a NASCAR driver, but with all vehicles and in all kinds of weather.

  When the line didn’t disappear, I nearly cried out in joy.

  Sweet baby Jesus. Life was about to get awesome.

  As the light in front of me turned green, I took off, foot smashing the accelerator to the floor.

  I wove through traffic with ease, my body reacting to things I didn’t know I could do. It was weird, almost like when I played video games. Like I could never consciously do a Shoryuken with Ryu in Street Fighter, but when I got into the zone, I could do them with split-second efficiency. This was like that. Only I was way better at driving than I was at Street Fighter.

  A smirk crossed my face as I whipped around a rain-slickened corner, allowing the truck’s right wheels to drift like I was in Tokyo. I could be a God of Street Fighter, of anything really.

  The thought was strangely sobering. If I could be the best at anything, what would be the point? I mean, sure, I could do it. I could walk into a pool hall and beat the pool bros, or I could walk into the PBA circuit and take home the gold. I just didn’t want to do either of those things.

  No, what I wanted to do was…

  I didn’t know.

  That was a scary feeling. I should have known, right?

  But as Metallica blared through the speakers, I realized I had no idea what to do with my life. No matter what I did, I’d always be the best, always be able to win. It was a touch strange because while I intrinsically knew I could do things the real way, it almost felt silly. This wasn’t like rerolling a new character and not using gear from the main or something. No, this was real life.

  And in real life, I could power level anything with the stroke of a pen.

  So, what did I want?

  That question filled my mind right up until I saw the flashing blue and red gumballs behind me. I instantly knew why. I was going over a hundred miles an hour in a thirty mile per hour zone in heavy rain.

  As that realization hit me, I also realized I was an asshole, but you know what? I didn’t give a flying fuck. What was a cop going to do?

  Not even bothering to slow down, I grabbed my pen and wrote another line on the pad while balancing it against the steering wheel.

  Cops no longer bother me.

  Unfortunately, the line evaporated, which was annoying. Still, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.

  This cop goes away.

  This time it worked, and as I watched his lights go out, he turned off onto another street. I stared at his retreating car for a moment, chewing on the end of the pen. Why had one worked but not the other?

  Was it because I’d tried to do too much? To influence too much? I wasn’t sure, but as I turned my eyes back to the streets, that strange feeling of being watched settled over me once more.

  I tried to shake it, to ignore it, but I couldn’t.

  I knew I was being crazy because no one was watching me, and I’d used the pen to make it so, but even with that being the case, I found myself pulling over to the side of the road. After I parked the truck, I flipped back through the pad, but as I did, I couldn’t find the line I’d written earlier.

  I stared at the blank page where Make me hidden from people who would do me harm should have been written, but it just wasn’t there at all.

  How could that be? How could my line have vanished after the fact?

  I wasn’t sure, but it made me scared in a way I didn’t understand. Maybe I really was being watched, and if I was being watched, did someone have the power to overrule my pen?

  No. That didn’t seem possible… but what if it was? What if this was being done by whoever had attacked the midget? What if they had found me despite what I’d written? M

  As panic started to flood through me, I resolved to try to fix it, to keep those assholes from stealing my newfound power. Setting to work, I began to write all manner of lines about the midget.

  Only every single word I wrote evaporated. Even innocuous ones like, I dunno, he finds a dollar in his pocket.

  My heart started to race as I stared at the blank page in front of me. Why wasn’t my pen working?

  Previously, I’d thought I just had to be trying to do something real. Like, what I had to write also had to be something that could happen actually happen. Only, that didn’t seem to be the case at all.

  There was definitely at least one person I couldn’t affect with the pen. That wasn’t good, and as I chewed on my lip, I started to worry that he or someone like him was the one watching me. For all I knew, that might mean they could do it without magic. Maybe, they had satellites, spies, and wiretaps.

  Worse, I had no idea what the midget’s powers were, nor the people who had caused the explosions. For all I knew, he could have another pen. Hell, maybe he had something more powerful than the pen? Either way, I’d have to be more careful until I knew what was going on.

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to think of what to do. I wasn’t sure, but I knew the pen wouldn’t help me, at least not in a straightforward manner, anyway. Sure, I tried to use it to hide myself again, but that didn’t work. I even tried to make the vehicle around me immune to surveillance and make it so satellites couldn’t track me, but neither worked. Hell, even trying to make my phone untrackable didn’t work. No. I was going to have to go off the grid.

  I had another idea.

  I took out my pen and wrote another line.

  Make anyone looking for the pen think I lost it.

  This time, the words stayed on the page, and as I sat there listening to the rain beat down on the roof of the truck and hoping it ha
d actually worked, that strange sense that I was being watched went away. The thing was, as I looked down at my page, I could see the words I’d written already starting to fade. It was just slower.

  It’d worked, but for how long?

  20

  As I pulled up to my apartment, I felt a bit stupid because anyone looking for me probably knew where I lived. That said, I wasn’t quite ready to abandon my home just yet. Sure, it was a shithole, but it was my shithole. Besides, the words were still on the pad. I had time to craft a new identity.

  Like usual, there was no parking in front of my building. Part of me thought about using the pen to make myself a space, but since it’d stopped raining, I decided against it. The walk and fresh air would do me good, would let me think.

  I drove through the streets until I found a spot about a block away. I parked the truck, and even though I’d just checked, I took a quick glance at my pad to make sure whoever was watching me still thought I’d lost the pen. When the words were still there, I exhaled slowly. Good, I had time to figure things out.

  Getting out of the truck, I inhaled a breath that smelled like trees and rain. Normally, I didn’t much like the rain, but I’d grown used to the smell. It was strangely calming, and as I looked up at the night sky, I saw the moon just starting to peek through the clouds.

  The day had gone by so fast, and at the same time, I’d done so much. Yawning, I made my way down the street, my hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket for warmth. It really wasn’t that cold or anything, but I also wanted to hold onto my pen. Part of me wasn’t sure why since I’d need to write stuff to make myself more formidable, but at the same time, touching it made me feel confident.

  As my sneakers splashed through the muddy puddles of water collecting on the sidewalk, I had half a mind to make myself dry again. Only as I had the thought, I felt a bit silly. I’d be in my apartment in a few minutes, and I could just take my shoes off and hop in a hot shower. Lord knows I needed one after my last day or so.