Seeking some fresh air and exercise,
I took a stroll down to the bank
before my entire being sank.
Why I brought the pen along, I did not understand;
but now I realize, this is when I truly lost command.
The bank teller asked for initials on the receipt,
so I used the pen to make the transaction complete.
As I handed back the slip of paper,
the pen's tip brushed against her skin,
causing the dark days to truly begin.
Both of us pretended not to notice,
exchanging words of pleasantries.
Making my way back to the front door,
I stopped in my tracks at a sudden uproar:
"Call an ambulance! Someone call 911! Hurry
As I made my way back to the counter,
I already knew what had occurred.
Though the view was obstructed by a growing crowd,
the answer draped my mind in a dreadful shroud.
I waited for the paramedics to arrive and finalize the show,
covering the poor teller in a sheet, from head to toe.
I slunk back home under a guilty cloud,
wondering what exactly to do next
with a pen that was obviously hexed.
Even though I had watched the poisonous ink kill a housefly,
I didn't know it had enough strength to cause a person to die!
I should have disposed of the pen immediately,
but instead, fed my curiosity
with more unraveling immorality.