Oh Little Blue Wax Crayon.
Where did you come from? And how did you return?
It was only 2 days ago that you took wrath out on me. I discovered you in the bedroom of a little girl, hidden underneath the special woolen floor rug. You had made such a mess.
Your waxiness was everywhere - the floor, the rug and for seemingly miles around.
I scrubbed. I removed your crayon-ness to the best of my ability.
I washed. That rug will never be the same, but it is on the path to recovery.
And now, it seems you will have your revenge. For although I surely threw you into the pit of despair, the rubbish bin, you have returned. In the same place. On the same floor, and your waxiness is everywhere, yet again.
Why did you choose me? And how on earth did you get out of the pit of despair.
It does not seem fair.
I will scrub. And I will wash. I will remove every ounce of proof that you were once there.
Oh Little Blue Wax Crayon. I will survive. You will not.
I have thrown you into the pit once again and this time you shall never return.
And you have only yourself to blame. I tried to warn you.
Farewell Little Blue Wax Crayon.