If I was a crayon I might be a blue or green one since those are my favorite colors. I would like to be put into a box of sixty-four or more because there would be other crayons to talk with if crayons could talk. As a newborn crayon I probably came from a big blob of hot, melting wax. Then I was rolled and pressed by a machine and then cooled by a freezing mist and wrapped with a makers label.
This was a very unflagging process because it was always new. After that I’m shipped out to a main warehouse were crayons are sold to companies like Target. At Target I would imagine being purchased by a young boy around the age bracket of five to six who loved to color and would one day grow up to become a famous artist. I would later be taken to his house and used as a permanent proxy for his other old gaunt crayons.
After he was finished playing with me and the other crayons he would diverge his attention away from us and onto the TV. Towards the end of the night the mother would come in and act like a scavenger searching for any lost or hidden crayons under the couch. Sometimes the little boy would play with us after being yelled at and be show much fervent towards us and rub our sharp heads against the paper making us very dull and unusable. I’ve lost many cronies that way and they’ve had a nice, little plummet into the garbage can.
I’m sure as a crayon I would live a very scary life because you never know when the time is up. As a crayon I would have very little knowledge of the outside world and what was really going on outside that big tall solid glass window in the living room were I would be used and played with.