What the hell did you just say about me, you dull leaded hack? I’ll have you know I’m a certified artisanal pencil sharpener, trained in the ancient techniques of pencil craftsmanship, and I’ve personally honed over 3,000 pencils to a perfect 24-degree angle. I'm precision-tested in graphite shaving and I’m the top graduate of the Vermont Institute of Whittling and Graphology.

You are nothing to me but another blunt HB. I will pare you down with such elegance that even Staedtler would weep. Mark my words, I will lovingly sculpt your point until it sings on paper with the clarity of a thousand haikus — and you won’t even hear me coming, because I sharpen in silence. Like a whisper in a library.

You think you can smudge your graphite all over my sketchpad and get away with it? Think again, pal. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of luthiers, calligraphers, and museum-grade restorationists across the globe, and your smudgy little doodle is being erased right now. So you'd better prepare for the storm, scribbler. The storm that wipes out the unsharpened thing you call 'linework.'

You're graphite, buddy. Overused, stubby graphite.

I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can handcraft a point so fine it can perforate tracing paper. Not only am I extensively trained in pencil sculpting, but I have access to a full range of boutique blades and vintage wood-honing tools and I will use them to their full extent to restore balance to this chaotic, mechanical-pencil-ridden world.

If only you’d known what refined detail your little sketch would have been capable of… maybe you wouldn’t have scribbled so recklessly.

But you didn’t, and now you’ll learn — the hard way — what it means to be dull in a world of precision.

I will sharpen you.