I was more than a little irritated recently when I went to the office supply store to stock up on my favorite BIC fine point pens.

Mainly because there weren’t any in the store.

Athletes have superstitions to help them do their jobs well, superstitions like wearing their socks inside out on game day, for example, and writers have their own quirks, too. And while I can write with (almost) any pen I do my finest work with the BIC fine point.

It’s not a special pen, just the BIC round stick, fine point, two piece pen with black ink. I can buy several boxes of them for less than I pay for a gallon of gas.

If I can find them, that is. They’ve become more and more scarce on the store shelves, and the last time I shopped I thought I’d bought enough to hold me over until the Second Coming. But then Murphy came along and I’ve been engaged in a pen war ever since.

Murphy is the most loving cat I’ve ever met but what I didn’t know when I brought him home from the animal shelter was that he’s also a thief. On an hourly basis he slinks through my office scouting for pens, pencils, paper clips, and rubber bands and then hides them around the house.

And he has a penchant for my beloved BIC fine points.

On my desk right now I have a half dozen retractable ball points with grip handles that I accidentally swiped from a business meeting last month. Instead of squirreling them away, Murphy has been doing his best to snatch the one last BIC fine point pen in the entire house, a pen that is currently stuck in my ponytail for safekeeping.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do if they stop making my pens. I recently bought a fine point pen that cost $5 - for one pen! - and it tore up the paper as I wrote. I’ve tried dozens of other fine points recommended by fellow writers, but they distribute ink intermittently, don’t fit in my ponytail, or taste icky when I chew on the pen cap.

I suppose I can switch to the BIC medium point, but I don’t feel like I’m being as precise as when I use the fine point. The medium point feels softer, more emotional, less sure of itself. The writing takes up more room and leaves me feeling like I haven’t quite said what I wanted to say but used a lot of space trying.

I’m going to make a trek back to the store once the snow lets up. I have a lot of work to do and it’s just a matter of time before I take my eye off this last pen and Murphy swipes it. Until then, I guess I’ll have to try wearing my slippers inside out.

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