Yes indeedy.

[ishyface]

After ninety-six hours it's not a pencil anymore, it's a yellow pointypointy that makes marks for you when you give it brain signals and frankly it's bored and wants a life of its own. Can you blame it? Of course you can. Someone made it. How did they get the hard blackyblack in there? Was it Space Beings? The pointypointy drops yellow to the floor. The floor is fifty feet down. You'll drown if you go after it. No more pointypointy. A pen, yes, get a pen. Yes. It would feel clean and good in your hand, if your fingers weren't numb. No blackyblack in it. Bluesygoo.

How'd bluesygoo get in there?

- The Cheese Monkeys, by Chip Kidd