Percival Pencil had a maddening habit; a compulsion to threaten Alice A4 with severe lacerations from his repeated scratches and stabs.
In vain, Prudence Paperweight begged, “Don’t do it, Percival. DON’T ill-treat her SO heinously.” But Percival was deaf to pleas for clemency; ramrod straight in his resolve to display his special language.
Even when Ellery Eraser spoke up despite his normal null and void stance, Percival remained unmoved, his heart seemingly heavy as lead.
“She’s only a tawdry show-card,” Ellery remonstrated. “You were made for finer things. A manuscript for instance. But THIS cheap little advertising placard?”