I’ll loan you my pen, if you need to borrow a pen, but you do have to give it back.
I’m not kidding around about that, if you try to steal my pen I will humanely end your life.
It’ll be completely painless, I’m not a monster. Lethal injection or some such, it’ll feel just like you’re going to sleep, you’ll barely know you’re dying. A warmth will come over you and you’ll settle back into it, comfortable as the end swallows your consciousness whole, allowing yourself to drift off into that eternal sleep that is the end point of every one of our journeys.
I don’t want you to suffer, after all, there’s no reason that I would want you to suffer. I consider us, if not friends, at least friendly acquaintances, as evidenced by my willingness to loan you the pen in the first place, and I’ll be genuinely saddened to see your life end, saddened further to know that I was the one to end it. But there will be nothing I can do about this, because much though I might regret your death, I will know that it is necessary.
I won’t cause you pain, because I don’t want for you to suffer, but I will end your life because, if you try to steal my pen, your life will need to end. It’ll end that I might send a message of warning to others and, more importantly, it’ll end in punishment for a minor crime that, repeated time and time again, ceaselessly, over the course of a lifetime, has worn down my patience to the point that its commission now drives me to murderous rage, fury that I can not manage but give into, and that I am no longer willing to even try to suppress.
So yes, painlessly; But death will come should you try to steal my pen.
And I suspect that, on some level, you understand why.
Because really, we’ve all had pens stolen and, really, we all know how fucking irritating it is…