In the story, this scientist became obsessed with the idea that you could never find a paper clip or a rubber band when you really needed one. He set up a corner of his lab to try and study the phenomenon in detail. He discovered that rubber bands and paper clips are two facets of the same extraterrestrial creature. Whenever you need a paper clip, they all hide by turning into rubber bands and vice versa.

Sadly, though, he never got the chance to publish his findings. He was found dead in his lab one morning, with a string of rubber bands around his neck, and his body punctured by a couple dozen strategically placed paper clips.

No, I'm not just babbling. The point is, I think I've discovered a similar relationship between lighters and pens. I'm not too worried about telling you this (She said, blissfully unaware of the dark clouds of Foreshadowing amassing above her head... because I think the lighters and the pens and I have reached an understanding.

I've already mentioned my obsessiveness with lighters. I don't think I've had a chance to tell you about my latest findings.

A few months ago, I looked in the lighter bowl, and it was empty. The traditional search of ze apartment only turned up three or four. "Well, that's not right," I said to my self. "I'm constantly buying lighters. I should have at least a dozen more. I know I've got them somewhere."

A few nights later, I accidentally left one of my few remaining lighters over at Dante's. To my surprise, I came home, and found two completely different lighters right in plain sight on the couch. I sensed I was onto something.

The next day, I bought a lighter, and deliberately abandoned it at Alice's. Within a week, my lighter bowl was overflowing again. Clearly, my sacrifice had pleased the Lighter Gods.

Yeah, you're laughing. But it worked. And it kept working. Every time I noticed my lighter bowl was getting low, all I had to do was buy one lighter and give it away. All the other ones would come home, wagging their tails behind them. Well, their metaphysical tails, anyway. I'm sure they would have been wagging tails, if they had tails to wag. Don't look at me like that.

So, the Lighter Gods and I had this understanding. If I Spread the Word of flame, my lighters would Be Fruitful and Multiply, and there would be Much Rejoicing. Or something like that. I never really put it into words before.

So, last week, I was running dangerously low on pens. I knew I'd been buying two or three pens almost every week, and some sort of black hole was swallowing them. Remembering my experiences with the lighters, I bought a 10-pack of Bics, and left them at work.

Now, I've got pens and lighters coming out of my ass. I can't turn around without tripping over a pen, or a lighter, or both. I was expecting the pens, of course. But the sudden flood of lighters confused me.

Then it hit me. There's only one god involved in this. His name is Bic. Come on now. Didn't you ever wonder about why the Bic company made lighters and pens? Really, now. What's the relationship?

Well, now I know. They are all the sons and daughters of the mighty Bic. He is a bountiful God, and we praise him. That our ink might never run dry, and our cigarettes bring us blissful cancer, forever and ever, amen.

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