Sometimes the human female doesn’t need my help to fall into misfortune. No, she is quite feckless enough all by herself.
Yuck. This is a pile of ink-stained tissues, evidence of the latest episode of clumsiness. What happened? I am sorry you missed it. It was classic.
You see, the human male is something of a fountain pen aficionado, and he has a shiny new one.
It’s what they call a “demonstrator,” meaning you can see its innards, in this case full of good, black ink. It even came with its own little wrench, a small container of lubricant for said innards, and copious instructions in multiple tongues.
Now, the human female does not use a fountain pen, not because she doesn’t like the way they write, but because she cannot manage to wield one without getting ink all over her hands. But to show support for her husband’s hobby, she essayed to take a quick break from her work on her laptop to “test drive” this new one. She wrote her name on a scrap of paper twice, scribbled a few flourishes, pronounced it all right, and handed it back.
Moments later, she discovered that her hands, bits of her shirt, and her laptop were very wet and very black. It seems that on this model, the barrel unscrews under where the cap rests if one places the cap on the barrel while writing. If one removes the cap to place it back upon the pen with any sort of twist at all, the whole apparatus opens and commences to leak.
Hands and shirts can be washed. Laptops are rather more problematic.
The human male was obliged to partially disassemble the computer, and the two stayed up past bedtime mopping out its internals. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Would you look at this mess!
Ehehehehehehehe. I couldn’t have arranged it better myself.