Mahogany, twelve inches, pliable with a single unicorn hair. Sounds about right. Not that I can really remember what I’m like anymore and it’s not as if everyone who uses me describes me loudly before they do so. They just grab me from the table, give me a quick wave and then I’m flung back down again. Used and deserted. That’s all I’m good for! Not that I’d expect anymore, not from anyone sane anyway.