A Masterpiece Denied

Since nobody here recognizes real comic genius, I took matters into my own hands and hunted down a real writing utensil. I climbed onto an open spiral notebook on the coffee table and dragged a loose graphite pencil across the lined paper. It felt like hauling a solid log of lumber. When I finally leaned all my weight against the tip to sketch my iconic stick-figure hair, the heavy wooden shaft tipped sideways and sent me tumbling into the page gutter. I ended up with a giant, crooked black smudge across the middle of the page instead of a masterpiece. Obviously, the manufacturer clearly made the pencil too top-heavy.