This is a follow up from Part 1, so read that first!
I was absolutely terrified in that moment. So, like any rational person, I start walking around the room, squinting at the carpet, looking for a silver glint in that complicated AF carpet. And surprisingly, I found it!
But it was the tiniest little silver ring that fit around the base. Honestly, am I making any sense? Whatever, okay, all you need to know is that that silver ring would not make any difference. I was still unable to do the click-clack snick-snack with the lead and therefore could not write. Which was very saddening. At that point, we had to go eat, so I abandoned the prospect for the time beings.
I eat the gross pizza (the cheese tastes like vomit, the sauce like blood, and most of the crust tastes like cardboard except for the garlic, making it the only part of the pizza I eat.
I trek back to the classroom and hunt for the pieces… But I cannot find them. When the teacher shows up, I ask her about it (with my hood up because I kind of wanted to cry) BUT SHE WAS NO HELP. AT ALL. THANKS.
Class resumes and I have no choice but to go back to my seat and incubate in my own thoughts.
At the end of the day, I’m just miserable but desperate. It was time to take action. Now, the guys in my Sunday School class have taken on a hobby where they throw things at the fan and watch it fly across the room. If you are like me, you know that that’s PROBABLY THE DUMBEST THING ONE COULD DO, LIKE???
Why?! They even threw pencils up there, for God’s sake– could’ve poked someone’s eye out. And with this thought in mind, I came to the conclusion that some asshole threw my, MY FANCEH pencil that I was OBSESSED with, at the stupid fan. How else would the pencil be broken with pieces thrown all the way across the room?
I let my kind of friend in on this theory, and she agreed. She told me that the only reasonable way to find out more details was to just ask them.
Oh, no no no no no. Got to go, got to go.
No, I simply cannot talk to people. But this is a special case. I actually like my pencil. I would do quite a bit for things I like.
So I…talk to people. Just the thought gives me shivers.
I go to one dude, take a deep breath and say, “Did you throw this at the fan?”
“No?” is the answer.
The classic™ joker behind me says “Oh, that’s mine! Give me.”
I answer in the cringiest way possible and sigh. “No!”
This was clearly not going well.
Finally, I ask the last guy, one known for making bad decisions. “Hey, did you throw my pencil at the fan?”
“No,” he says. The next sentence made my blood boil. “But can I have it?” he asked, gesturing to it.
AS IF HE THOUGHT I WAS GONNA GIVE YMYYMY PENCIL TO HIM TO THROW AT THE FAN. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I had to give up. I couldn’t hold interrogation sessions in the middle of Sunday School.
But when it was time to go home, I was not feeling too great. This was my last chance to fix my favorite pencil by finding the last piece(s), and what was that I heard? The whine of a vaccuum, ready to suck up what was left of my pencil.
Now, I’ll have to provide some context in order for this to make sense.
So, if you followed along with me, you might theorize that the fan knocked a piece from my pencil onto the great area down below.
I do what any reasonable person would do, and race downstairs to hunt for the piece.
This was my last chance to find it. My only chance, and there wasn’t much time. I squint my eyes, looking for anything, like the same glint of silver I had seen before.
No, this was stupid. How could I expect to find a tiny piece from a PENCIL in this vast area?
But then, I saw it.
A long, black shard. Sitting right in front of me. This was the large piece I was missing!
I race to it and pick it up, and slide it into my pencil. It goes in with a satisfying click.
The only thing missing was a small, silver, decorative ring at the top of the push part. I did look for it, but I couldn’t find it. So I had to end my search there. However, I wasn’t too bummed about it.
My favorite pencil was functional again, and I only shed a few tears.