We pull a phrase out of a hat and then write for five minutes. Somewhere in there we need to have the phrase from the hat. This instalment must contain the phrase: “I have one in my backpack”.
Marcus: Oh my God, I hate school so much
Henry: Me too.
M: I wish I had a stick of dynamite.
H: I have one in my backpack.
Henry pulls a stick of dynamite out of his backpack.
M: What. The. Fuck?!
M: Why do you have a stick of dynamite in your backpack?!
M: No. No you don’t get to just…
M: You don’t get to just do that.
H: I carry a stick of dynamite with me. No big deal..
M: Huge deal Henry. Enormous fucking deal!
H: I don’t get it. You ASKED me if I had a—
M: I know I ASKED you but if I asked you if you had…
H: If I had?
M: The blueprints for a time machine–
Henry holds up a finger and rifles through his pack. He pulls out some blueprints.
M: Stop. Let me see that!
Henry hands over the dynamite.
M: The blueprints!
Henry hands over the blueprints. Marcus looks them over.
M: These are blueprints for the high school?!
I’m really hungry. I would kill for something to eat. Something that will hold me over from that difficult period between leaving work and arriving home. What I need is something that will stabilize my blood sugar, so no candy bar, no intense chocolate rush that will coat my tongue and stick to my teeth.
Can’t have nuts. So no spoonful of peanut butter, which is ridiculous anyway. I’m in school and peanut butter is contraband. What I need is a hard boiled egg. Perfectly cooked because I watched how to do it on Jacques Pepin. First you poke a tiny hole in the base of the egg with a thumb tack, then you place it in water delicately. After it’s boiled, it’s put in an ice water bath. In fact the whole procedure is amazing in the care that a simple food —a perfect sphere of white nestling a dense sphere of yellow takes.
I have one in my backpack