Here is this week’s writing prompt, an inter-galactic tale of pen-pilfering, ink-drinking bandits. Thanks to my husband for inspiring this one. I was wondering out loud what had happened to a particular pen that I’d had in the kitchen drawer when he suggested maybe there was some pen-stealing faction out there for whom ink was like the spice in Dune. So there you have it.
They were slick, surreptitious. He’d give them that. Those ink-drinking bandits from the outerlands of Rogon 5 had struck again, and this time, they’d hatched a plot so nefarious that the entire supply of ink in the Glacyon Prime system had literally dried up within nanoseconds. A dehydration device of some sort. That’s how they’d done it. They’d turned all of the liquid ink into dried powder form. He admitted it was brilliant. It was much easier to smuggle and transport containers of powdery ink off-world than volumes of liquid. Who knows? Maybe they wanted it in powder form. They could be inhaling it now, smoking it, rather than guzzling it; perhaps they’d found that ingesting it that way made its mind-altering effects more potent. He was wondering where the trail of disappearing ink would lead him next when an alert came in that ink-carrying vessels known as “pens” had been reported missing in large numbers from a planet in the Sol system known as Earth. He clenched his fist. His instinct told him the pen-pilfering hooligans had to be Rogons. He had to stop them before this planet Earth suffered the same fate as Glacyon Prime.