Farewell to a tireless worker and constant desk companion. My faithful $8 sharpener grinded productively by my side for two years before finally having a psychotic break and massacring eight pencils before killing itself in a grating spasm that smelled of burning wood and melting electrical parts.
I could say that I could never replace you, dear sharpener, but that would be a lie, as I'm heading to Wal-mart tomorrow to do just that.
But until that, work grinds to a halt. Bugger.