As you consider what you want to do next with the pencil, it suddenly twitches on its own. It jerks again, then abruptly lifts off of the table in front of you, hovering several feet off the ground. At once, it begins whipping about, drawing quick lines that float in the space behind it. When the pencil stops, a simple “Hello” hangs in the air in front of you.
“Um, hi?” you answer.
As you respond, the letters fade, and it begins to write again, this time much faster.
“It's been too long since I've had a new artist to patronize,” it writes, letters fading again. “It appears that you've already learned some of what my pencil can do.”
“Your pencil? Who are you?” you ask, hoping that whoever is writing can actually hear you.
“You may use the pencil however you like, as long as you entertain me,” it continues, either not hearing you or ignoring your question. “In fact, I would like to make a commission.”
You're still confused as you watch the words disappear. The pencil has stopped writing, and rests still in the air as if it's waiting for a response.
“Okay, a commission, but for what? And what are you commissioning?”
The pencil moves again, leaving the words, “The payment is that you will get to remain as you are. If I'm not entertained, I will make my own art. First, I want you to draw a rabbit.”
You stare at the words with your mouth agape. This isn't making much sense, and whoever is controlling the pencil doesn't seem to be very responsive.
As the writing fades, the pencil slowly lowers back on to the table where you first placed it, remaining still. You hesitantly reach out for it and pick it up. It appears as lifeless as before in your hand, but now knowing that that isn't always the case, you don't feel as comfortable holding it.
You realize that the pencil didn't give you a time limit on its 'commission,' but that “make my own art” sounded a bit ominous. It'd probably be better to try sooner rather than later. Besides, it was simple enough. Just draw a rabbit. Not too hard.
You try to imagine what you want to draw, getting a basic image of a white bunny in your head. You focus on a spot in the floor and begin to sketch. The world flattens in front of you again, and as before, the pencil seems to imbue you with some kind of natural artistic talent. Soon, you have a very lifelike picture of a rabbit suspended in the air, just barely touching the floor.
As you finish your drawing, your vision goes back to normal, and the details that your illustration couldn't convey flood into the drawing. As it fills with color and sprouts real fur, the drawing begins to blink. Its chest heaves up and down rapidly as it starts moving. Its head darts to look at you in alarm, and suddenly, a real, completely corporeal rabbit is darting around your living room in a panic.
The pencil tugs in your hand, freeing itself from your grasp. It writes a single word before you: “No.”
With that message, it flips around, pointing eraser first at the rabbit across the room. It makes a few quick swipes in the air, and with each one, a thick line disappears from the rabbits body. Shortly, it's faded away just as easily as it came. The pencil then turns its point back to you and begins writing again.
“That was not art. I will explain how to make the art I like.”
After the last words fade, the pencil continues moving. However, its motions are now much more confined than when it was writing, and you don't see any letters or lines being left in its wake. Something tickles your hair slightly, but you barely notice it as you wait, anticipating the pencil's next message.
Only a few moments pass before the pencil stops again. As it does, the tickle in your hair gets worse, and it feels like there's something in it. The top of your head feels strange, but before you can investigate it, the pencil turns around, pointing the eraser towards you. It makes two quick slashes, and your ears go numb.
You whip your hands up to the sides of your head to feel... Nothing. Where your ears should be, your fingers meet smooth skin. Realizing what the pencil was doing when it wasn't writing, you quickly reach higher. As your investigation reaches the top of your hair, you feel two furry extremities that you know weren't there a minute ago. Even more disturbing, you can feel sensations of your fingers rubbing against them, as well as hear the sounds that your skin makes as you brush the fur.
“What are these?!” You yell at the pencil.
“Art,” it writes back, before settling back on the table.
You snatch the pencil up and run to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Once you see your reflection, your suspicions of what the pencil drew are confirmed. On top of your head, you're sporting a pair of white, fuzzy bunny ears, about a foot in length each. Once the initial shock passes, you try to take the pencil to them, rubbing the eraser on the unfamiliar flesh.
However, nothing seems to happen. You continue rubbing until it hurts, but the ears aren't going anywhere. You drop the pencil on the counter in frustration and crane your neck closer to the mirror to see if you can spot any hint of progress. The pencil lifts up to write a final time.
“You cannot erase my art unless I allow it. I wanted a rabbit, and I'll not have you erase mine until you've provided another. Fill my commission, then you can change yourself as you see fit. Go make art, and do not forget: I expect to be entertained.”
With that, the pencil drops to the counter with much more abruptness than you've seen so far. You're left alone to contemplate what to do next...