The Third Shelf

 "Why does she always choose pens?" Cybil asked from the third shelf.

From down below, Maggie Peters was opening a brand new box of black pens.

"Pencils are a perfectly good option." 

"Be patient my friend, take in the relaxing nature of the third shelf while you're up here." Mark said nonchalantly. 

"Oh you better believe I'm patient. I've been patient for three weeks, sitting up here." Cybil grumbled, watching Maggie begin to draw with her pens using long, even strokes.

"Do you know how many pencils are used a day in the United States alone?" Mark asked. Cybil hesitated. She did not need Mark's fun facts right now. But, curiousity got the best of her. "Okay, Mark. How many?"

"Four. HUNDRED." He said proudly.

"Well I wish I was one of them." Cybil sighed. "You're impossible to cheer up." Mark said. 

"And yet you try and do it every day anyways!" Cybil laughed fondly.

"Hey, what's the big idea???" Yapped a raspy voice with a strong brooklyn accent.

"Uh oh. She's using the scissors." Mark and Cybil peered down. Maggie grasped the scissors and made choppy cuts into the paper as the scisscors voiced his complaints in a very colorful way. "Why I outta strangle ya and shove ya in a choppa and ship ya ta new mexico!" He yelled as she set him down.

"Now there's someone who deserves to be on the third shelf." Cybil mumbled.

Mark grunted in agreement.

All day, Maggie drew and colored and only took breaks for meals, and all day Mark tried to cheer Cybil up with interesting facts. 

"Did you know there are more pencils in the world then blades of grass?"

"Did you know pencils are the reason humans exist?"

"Did you know a pencil saved Lance Armstrong's life?"

"That doesn't make any sense." Cybil objected.

"That's what Lance said!" Mark said defensively.

Finally, at the end of the day, Maggie stood up on her chair and peered across the third shelf, and seemed to be looking for something. Cybil held her breath and shut her eyes, over joyed that she was finally going to be chosen.

Then, Maggie reached into the bin titled "MARKERS"and grabbed something. Cybil opened her eyes. Maggie was bringing down Mark. Cybil dismally let out all her breath, and she was back to feeling even worse than before.

She sat in her sorrows for awhile, too sad to watch Maggie draw.

Then, a fellow marker named Arnie whispered, "Hey look at Markie go!" Cybil tentatively looked down. 

Mark was making strong moves that brightened the whole page, and the red strokes of the marker really accentuated the bold black lines of the new pens.

It was mesmirizing, and Cybil decided that she could never do that, and Maggie definetly knew what she was doing when she chose Mark. Maybe Cybil wasn't right for drawing, But Mark definetly was.

When Mark was thrown back into the marker bin, he was still in a creative daze.

"Mark, that was more amazing then I ever could have done. Good job." Cybil said with pride.

"Cybil... I'm sorry you didn't get picked." Mark said.

"I know, but- WOAH!" Cybil was whisked away from the third shelf, and suddenly she was flying though the air with nothing to keep her tethered but Maggie's hand carrying her through.

As she was going through the air she could see clearly all the beautiful artwork Maggie had been creating all day, and they all fit together like a puzzle! They were all connected, and they all told a story. But a story needs words. Cybil grinned when she hit the paper. Maggie began to write her story, with Cybil as her guide.

"Four hundred and one." Mark said happily from the third shelf.