With ink as black as night It has a pen But does not write.

When thunder speaks, I lose my nerve, I blink and stutter, as if unsure. Not out, not on, a pulse obscure, I warn you that your electricity may not endure.

I follow the sun when it slips from sight, I'm gloomy, obscure and not very bright, I’m feared by some, yet needed for rest, Name me, at hiding things I'm the best.

A favorite material for gear in the cold, wash me once, and I look quite old. Described as comfy, cozy, and relatively cheap, I’m shorn from the backs of fluffy sheep.

Tom failed two thousand seven hundred seventy-four times trying to invent this. When you solve this riddle those looking at you may see this, especially if you are a cartoon character. If you seek a clue you will see the answer.