The pencil

I was in eighth-grade math class. I was bored out of my mind. Drool fell down my cheek onto my desk. Who cared about fractions anyway? The kid behind me constantly asked for a pencil to borrow. I would later ask for it back, it would be covered with large teeth prints. His mouth had walked its way from the tip to the eraser.

This day was different. He asked for a pencil and I had to decline. I only had one. This pencil was special. It was fairly short from previous use but, it was all I had. It was what I would use to fill out made-up answers for the fractions I knew nothing about. It was also a better toy than the recent “fidget spinner”. I could flip it. I could spin it. I could draw. The skies were the limit. That day I decided to invent a new game.

The game consisted of me holding the pencil an inch from my mouth, and I would suck in like a human-vacuum. It would fly in and I would catch it with my tongue. I repeated this a few times. The teacher still mumbling and jumbling on about quarters and halves. My game was more interesting. I sucked in and like a pinball, it would hit my tongue. Then, the one thing I didn't see happening....happened. The pencil passed my tongue and shot like a bullet down my throat.

Panic! instant Panic! I looked around to see if anyone was watching. I could feel it in my throat. I swallowed multiple times. Maybe it went down....

Questions filled my mind. Do I need surgery? What about lead poisoning? How do I tell my mom?

I needed to leave. My hand shot up. “Can I use the restroom?” The teacher nodded. I ran to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror with my mouth wide like a python. NOTHING....I should go to the nurse and ask about lead poisoning. I could definitely die from this dosage. She said it was made with graphite now. What a relief...

The rest of the day I walked like a robot, I was scared to bend over. What if this pencil shot out of my skin? What if it already pierced my intestine?

I went home and told my mom that night. She held in her laugh and calmly asked if I wanted to go to the ER. I didn't.

For seven days I waited. I checked every delivery I made in the bathroom. On the seventh day guess what I saw! The pencil! I called a meeting in the bathroom for celebration. From that day forward I never stuck pencils near my mouth.

You’re asking “what did you do with the pencil? Did you save it?”

No. I gave it to the kid behind me that chewed on all my pencils.