paorta-kremvax

Sam walked into the hat complex gripping tightly to the brim of his favourite hat. It sparkled gold and had large light-blue stripes.
            He took it off and presented himself formally to the secretary waiting in the front hall.
            “Hello,” he said. “My name is Sam.”
            The secretary nodded and rubbed his hands through his brillo-creme covered hair. Sam’s left hand twitched. He continued.
            “I’ve come to register my hat. I believe it to be worth registration.”
            The secretary pointed to a nearby pile of forms. He grunted. Sam picked up one that seemed appropriate.
            The secretary grunted again, annoyed.
            “Oh,” said Sam. “Sorry.” He picked up another other form which had before seemed superfluous. It was exactly what he needed. He brightened, smiling thanks.
            “Do you have a pen?” he asked.
            The secretary frowned. He sat up in his chair and shook his head.
            Sam felt a bit nervous. He laughed.
            “But I need it to fill out this form. And you’ve got several on your desk.”
            The secretary shook his head and turned away. He pretended to be doing other work.
            Sam frowned. He checked his pockets again. He sat down on the tile floor in front of the desk.
            “I don’t know where to get a pen,” he said, deep in thought. He put his hat back on. He searched under the desk. His hands felt the rough and dusty cracks in the floor. He heard the click-click-clack of the computer keys. He scrunched up his face in thought.
            “I don’t even know the first thing about pens, or forms.”