Shift Log Protocol

My boots came to a measured halt before an open pocket notebook on the nightstand. Regulations required an orderly concluding entry. I grasped the silver click-button of a ballpoint pen, applying standard vertical pressure. The internal coil snapped with tremendous force, propelling the entire cylinder forward against my palm! I braced, tongue rigidly extended, awaiting secondary detonations. When the room remained silent, I methodically rolled the errant instrument into a precise ninety-degree alignment against the spine of the pad. The perimeter is secure.