How did it happen? Well, after an hour or so of back-and-forth last night, I agreed to chauffeur the woman to her chosen Babylon -- the arts and crafts store on the other side of town. She, being a connoisseur of pencils and clay and everything in between, and me, not at all wanting to be there. We've gone to this place a hundred times; I grow more worse for wear with every visit and my resolve to torch the store becomes ever stronger. Being annoying/impatient, I'm not allowed to stand near her in the store, because lawd knows you can't pick the right block of Fimo when someone's tapping their feet and making huffy-pouty "hurry up" noises five feet away. I'm charged to browse the aisles by myself -- something that makes me uncomfortable even in stores I like.

This has been the arrangement for some time now, and certainly enough time has passed for me to develop a surefire way of spiting her for making me go there. Careless with money, I'm under constant pressure from my more shaven half to resist buying things I don't need. Tough when the only things I'm interested in are things nobody on the planet really "needs." It all leads to the spite plot: Whenever I have to go to the arts and crafts store, I buy something ridiculous and find a roundabout way to blame her. And man, I've bought it all. I've purchased kits that'll -- assuming I ever open them -- afford me the chance to create everything from mosaic lawn decorations to woodburned cheese boards. I don't buy these things to open them: I buy them so I can tell the woman that I wouldn't have had to buy them if I wasn't left unattended in the god damned arts and crafts store for 45 minutes. Our income is shared, and there's no worse feeling than realizing that you worked 3.5 hours so that an unpainted styrofoam solar system could sit in your closet.

Last night's trip was particularly lethal. I'm able to wing it for about ten minutes of aisle-hopping. After that, I'm pretty much a zombie. Not the kind that eats brains -- the kind that lumbers around and knocks everything over. This time, it was this huge standee full of photo boxes in an array of pastel patterns. I felt the eyes of those tens of yards away shift my way with ridiculing intent. My only defense was to spite the true guilty party by purchasing fifty bucks worth of novelty pens. That's how it happened.


The need for novelty pens should be clear to anyone who goes to class or works in an office. They're the ultimate icebreakers. Say you're new on the job. Say you haven't really gotten acquainted with any of your coworkers just yet. One quick waltz into the dining area with a pad and a novelty pen later, and bam, you're comfortable enough to participate in the unspoken tradition of everyone placing witty, off-the-wall Post-It notes on the office refrigerator. When people see a novelty pen, they've just gotta know.

And what do these novelty pens actually say about their wielders, anyway? Great sense of humor? Literate? Rager against the machine? They say a lot, come to think of it. You'd only be more broadly promoted with a ribbon that reads, "I'm Not Just Another Number!" Besides, people who don't doodle need something funky going on with their pens to keep themselves entertained. If God didn't instill the sense of joy from doodling in certain people, it doesn't mean that those certain people deserve any less of an opportunity to not go insane during a thirty-minute hold on a call to the cable company. One way or another, pens must entertain us.

A couple of companies have taken the "miniaturized board game" concept from keychains to a much bigger stage: Peh-peh-peh-PENS. The tiny games aren't just for show, either -- they really work, including all of the critical elements from the games they're patterned after. Most of the classics have been realized in this matter, save for the ones that simply have too many pieces or cards to possibly translate. Shed a tear for Monopoly. There's dozens of these things floating around nowadays, like legal crack, charming every shopper who needs to stuff a stocking or who enjoys Hallmark humor. I brought home eight different specimens, because I figure if people can bring home mushroom or tarantula specimens, I'm allowed a few novelty pens.


Slinky Pen: Despite the word "detachable" being heavily pushed right on the package, I was still surprised to find that the Slinky can actually be removed from the pen, increasing my expected level of pen-heaven by a zillion percent. Granted, it's a stupendously small Slinky that isn't going to go crawling down any staircases unless stairs start getting smaller, but it's a real, working Slinky, dammit. Same glistening coil, same siren-esque clangs of metal.

Also noteworthy: You know that Slinky trick, right? Don't act like you haven't done it -- the one where you secretly palm a Slinky, find an unsuspecting victim and unleash the fury of a Slinky Slide Punch? No? Okay -- Scorpion, from Mortal Kombat. You know that shit he does with the corded spearhead? It's a lot like that. People let their guards down when you throw punches at 'em from six feet away, and hitting people in the head with a flying, ever-extending Slinky is a hundred times more hysterical when they've got their guards down. I award this novelty pen an apple.


Magic 8 Ball Pen: It's the same, tired old situation. You're writing the big invite list for an upcoming gala, and you're up to the part where you're only half-sure you want the remaining potentials at the party. Oh, what to do? Should you invite Aunt Jody? Does Aunt Jody really need to be there? On one hand, she lives close and it wouldn't be a bother for her to come. On the other hand, Aunt Jody stole money from you. It's time to consult your novelty pen, for it is a Magic 8 Ball. Honest to God.

Though some of the magic indigo liquid seems to have already evaporated, this is a truly commendable effort. Since the normal-sized Magic 8 Balls can get a bit wordy, this one needed to revise the script to accommodate its small size. Thus, we get some pretty unique answers for a Magic 8 Ball: "Deny" and "Doubt It" round out the standard "Yes" and "No," and through the technology of the Cybernetic Space Cube, they've managed to pack twenty different responses in there. I dunno though, I've been shaking this thing for an hour and I've only been able to get six answers. When I asked it if I'd ever see more, it landed on one of those naughty corner points. With a mere six answers seen, I can only award this novelty pen geese.


Etch-A-Sketch Pen: The Etch-A-Sketch was born in the `50s, delighting the world for over half a century despite that fact that it's changed so very little throughout that time. While I appreciate its many fine contributions to the toy industry and for fueling the memories of millions, I must admit that I never really enjoyed playing with an Etch-A-Sketch. I guess I always put too much stock into my pathetic ability to draw diagonal lines and curves on 'em -- I would've had an easier time making the Etch-A-Sketch sit up and bark than drawing even a remotely circle-shaped object on its screen.

That said, I admire the Etch-A-Sketch novelty pen's ability to do everything the real deal does. You'd think handling two button-sized dials and a canvas smaller than a matchbook cover would prove insanely frustrating, but I'll be damned, it works well. The only thing missing is that satisfactory sand-rattle the original device makes whenever you shake the screen clean. That's not here, but whatever -- it's a tradeoff. You can't write love letters with the original Etch-A-Sketch. I award this pen a bunch of turtles.


Nerf Dart Blaster Pen: Illegal in five states and in public schools nationwide, the Nerf Dart Blaster Pen perfectly captures all that is great about Nerf. The company has produced countless of clever games over the years with materials that were "safe to get hit with," and if you're not putting this little puzzle together, the general point of Nerf junk was to give kids a chance to pound the holy hell out of their friends. And pound we did, with everything from sticky footballs to foam-bladed fencing lances.

They kind of cheat with the actual pen portion here, as its bulky shape makes it nearly impossible to write with, assuming you need whatever you're writing to be legible to anyone else on the planet. But y'know, I'll gladly sacrifice legibility for a pen that shoots freakin' foam missiles at speeds exceeding 70 miles per hour. Complete with turret and trigger, you get two suction cup-enhanced foam missiles that blam out at speeds you would never expect. Granted, the suction cups don't help the missiles actually stick to anything, but it's not like you have any less of a chance to make the hundred-point eyeball shot when aiming at friends. I award this novelty pen a new car!


Play-Doh Fun Factory Pen: Though obviously not as wild and involved as the original Play-Doh Fun Factory, they've crammed an impressive amount of Doh action into this, all things considered. The pen includes a small tub of Play-Doh, but it's worth mentioning that there's no where to store Play-Doh within the pen. Hey now. For those willing to sacrifice that extra bit of pocket space to a tiny tub of Play-Doh, you're getting a pen that includes everything from a trimmer knife to ten different shape settings. You can make strands of star-shaped Play-Doh, worm-shaped Play-Doh -- even spaghetti-shaped Play-Doh. And then you can eat it, because Play-Doh tastes no different than a bunch of chewed up potato chips, and don't act like you've never chewed up potato chips and rolled them into manageable little balls before eating them.

If I appeared before the high committee, my argument would be that they could've easily designed the pen to split apart and serve as a containment unit for the actual Play-Doh. Sure, some would counter that this would interfere with the pen's private space, but come on! Look at that thing -- you can't write with it. I can barely get my monster claws around it; a six-year-old would need both hands and a miracle. I still admire the novelty pen for having ten different methods of shitting out Play-Doh, and for that, it's easily worth this exquisite ceiling fan.


Connect Four Pen: The pen is Mr. Awesome, no doubt about it -- it's my favorite of the lot. I disclose a personal bias: I love Connect Four. If my entire family died and a stranger offered to play Connect Four with me for a full afternoon, I'd skip the funeral and blame it on car troubles. I guess the fascination boils down to two things:

One: In Connect Four, neither player can accurately predict who will win until the last minute. Well, unless you're down to the point where you're just counting to see who will run out of available spaces first and have to give up a foursome to the enemy, but I'm striking those instances from the record. The game always stays interesting for both players. Two: In most cases, people lose Connect Four because they become careless for a split second. If you're in the winning position, the look on your opponent's face after they drop their token down and realize what they've done even before you get the smirk on your face is worth ten times more than whatever Milton Bradley currently charges for the game.

Plus, it's a tiny commitment. Even if you got your ass handed to you ten games in a row, what's the harm in one more? It's pretty much a 50/50 shot every time, and even if you lose again, you're only five minutes more worth of pissed afterwards. So what? The Connect Four novelty pen is 100% complete -- same number of tokens, rows, yadda. The game rack even slides up the same way its daddy does. It's a bit of a pain to get the tiny tokens in the right slots (and in every case, a mutually agreed upon mishap results in a do-over -- and that's fucking annoying), but of all the pens we've seen, I think this one would get the most use. I award it my soul.

Five minutes more worth of pissed?


Pop-O-Matic Trouble Pen: Okay, my biased love for Connect Four is the only reason the Pop-O-Matic Trouble Pen isn't taking home the grand prize. This thing is incredible. I certainly owned Trouble as a child, though I used it more as scenery for action figure battles than Family Game Night. I loved having Mumm-Ra push down on the magic Pop-O-Matic bubble and pretend that the numbers shown were actually psychic predictions to help guide his evil plots. It added a dramatic flair to my toys' adventures, but more than anything, watching a five-inch Mumm-Ra try to push that bubble down always gave me the giggles.

Granted, it's more fun to look at the miniaturized version than play it, what with its ultra tiny game pieces and the fact that the die inside the bubble is too big for it, thus necessitating the need for five or six "pops" before the number changes. Still, it's all here. The game is just the same as we're used to, and if I had to make a list of classic board games that sounded too impossible to convert to novelty pen-size, Pop-O-Matic Trouble would've certainly been on it. Maybe there's hope for Monopoly yet. For its superior design and neat popping sounds, I award this pen rock candy.


Rock'em Sock'em Robot Pen: Last but not least. It's more pretty than functional, which isn't to say it doesn't function -- it just functions poorly. Assuming somebody else you know has a Rock'em Sock'em novelty pen, yes, you can battle it out. The downside is that the punch-inducing arm levers are right on the robot's back, so your entire hand will constantly obstruct the big boxing match. Funks things up. The android head also has quite a bit of trouble staying in place even when there's no robot fists punching at it, but these gripes are easily overlooked when you're scribbling with a friggin' robot pen. It fetches soda for its efforts.

And we're done, thank God. I was gassed halfway through the intro. A couple of the novelty pens featured here came with pamphlets promoting other novelty pens, and it's pretty amazing what they've done with the technology. Silly Putty novelty pens! Candy Land novelty pens! Battleship, Lava Lamp and Duncan Yo-Yo novelty pens! What they're good for varies depending on the person using them, but next time there's a kid in my very extended family with a birthday coming up, it's a novelty pen all the way. Very extended family kids aren't worth more than five bucks.

-- Matt (8/7/05)

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