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My theory of ink pens and chewing gum
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Since UGA has richly-blessed us with humor columnists, we Tech grads need to share our own brand of silliness and the occasional "grits" reference. In this first column, I'll share a theory I've been working on since 1985. I've figured out where all the lost ink pens go.

We lose pens all the time. We also lose keys, watches, wallets and lottery tickets, but I don't know anything about those. I just know where all the ink pens go. In 1985, I was reading about quantum physics and it hit me. All those missing pens have fallen into wormholes, passageways in space-time and - I'm speculating - doors to other dimensions. I believe there are zillions of tiny wormholes out there. Oddly, my analysis has shown that most are located near elementary schools. It's these tiny wormholes that get you. Oh, they're too tiny to grab your basic dachshund, but just the right size to suck in everything smaller than a felt-tip marker. Your pens haven't been lost because of carelessness. They've been snatched by quantum physics.

Now, it's a well known fact that modern ink pens can't survive a trip through a wormhole. When a pen is sucked in, its molecular structure deforms. When the pen arrives on the other side, the deformed writing instrument looks just like a wad of used chewing gum. It's a cruel process but it's a universal law. Hundreds of other dimensions are losing their pens in the exact same manner and their residual globs are arriving in our dimension. Some globs end up on the sidewalk while others attach to signs and lamp posts. Every now and then, I'll find one resting under my shoes. Most globs end up inside elementary schools. As I said, that's where most tiny wormholes are located.

Have you looked underneath the little desks in elementary schools? What about the lunch tables? Contrary to what you were taught, that's not chewing gum under there. Those globs are the remains of red, blue, green and even fancier-colored pens from other dimensions. Some six-legged teacher in another dimension loses her red grading pen. Seconds later, one of our local 5th graders is yelled at for "sticking cherry gum on the chalkboard." It's a crazy universe - all 436 dimensions of it - but I'm going to be here to help you make sense of it all.

David McCoy, a notorious storyteller and proud Yellow Jacket, lives in Conyers, Ga. He can be reached at