Post Pi Day

Of course, although it may be a bit late, here it is.

I was told, by a friend, let’s say, her name is E. Well, E told me the day before, that she was bringing two pies. TWO WHOLE PIES. Key lime, and peach. The wonders!

And it was also known that another friend, let’s say, J, was supposed to bring a cookie pie. (Yes, human beings of this world, there is such thing as a cookie pie. I just found out on Tuesday or Wednesday. Don’t worry, you’re not that behind in modernization.)

So just then, I knew that there would be three pies at the Pi Day Party. That is—if Mr. V would allow us.

We did not care. Bring pie to class, watch our teacher shake in rage, fume, and break out into a spasm—a spectacle!

Bring pie to class, watch our teacher look at us helplessly, give in, and eat pie—a wonder!

So either way, it was a win-win sort of thing. Only… the second win was a bit more winnier.

 

The thing was—there was no plates.

What were we to do—eat off the table? eat with our hands? Paper plates—literally?

With this in mind, I went to school. I then, came up with a sort of brilliant idea—to take plates from the school cafeteria!

Only—I couldn’t just take eighteen plates off the table-thingy. It would be kind of--

strange.

So what was I to do?

The only way to get plates without being noticed, was to buy pizza.

Only—if I put the pizza on the plate, it would be a dirty plate.

So—could I ‘accidentally’ take another plate, under it?

But could I ‘accidentally’ take eighteen plates?

This raced through my mind on the bus ride to school.

At school, I realized, that with a few of my friends, we might actually achieve this ‘accidental’ stealing of plates. If they all bought pizza, that is.

So at lunch, we did just that. We casually walked over to the pizza place thingy majiger, took six plates, and put pizza on the topmost plate.

We passed by, buying the pizza, with no suspicion.

It was hilarious, because the lunch person who was looking at our pizza, thinking, ‘Buoy, these kids are loving pizza today,’ don’t actually realize that there are five plates under the plate she was looking at.

And then we found that we were four plates short. Obviously, we couldn’t just go up and buy another pizza, and neither could we go up and just take the plates and walk away—could we?

So, we found that a table away, another classmate was sitting with his friends—only he wasn’t exactly the best of friends with us, you know…? It would be awkward to ask him to take four plates.

But of course, one of our friends is very—socially unawkward, to put it that way, and just shouted, (let’s call him ‘JL.’) "HEY JL! JL!”

And he turned around.

“HEY JL, GET SOME PLATES FOR PI DAY! GET SOME PLATES! OVER THERE!”

Obviously, if you hear someone you barely know (not even in your math class) to steal plates from the lunch line, you don’t suddenly oblige. Obviously.

So most predictably, he did not.

She then caught his attention again, and shouting again, “JL! JL! GET PLATES! JUST PLATES! FROM THE PIZZA LINE!”

And the whole time, I was saying, “Comeon, that’s mean! Don’t make him do that.”

And suddenly he got up, went over to the lunch-place-thingy, and seemed to go in the direction of the lunch line thing, and walked over to the pizza-area where the plates were--

and walked by, went to the line, and bought chips.

At this aggravation, my socially unawkward friend said, “HEY JL! WHY DIDN’T YOU GET THE PLATES?”

And he replied, “There aren’t enough for eighteen.”

She said, “We only need four! Four! Four! Just four!”

And suddenly, he got up, went to the line, took four plates, and just walked back.

I guess the lunch aids are nearsighted. And so are the lunch clerks, because he came over, unnoticed, with four plates.

Wow, did I even think that he would be the one abetting us in this sort of deed.

Well, point being, we had our eighteen plates.

We then continued on our “Operation Pi,” which I appropriately named just as we were on our plan B.

Plan B, was that a friend and I would ‘sign out’ to ‘Band.’ (We’re allowed to do that.) We would be the ‘usual band-geeks’ who go to band nearly every day (well, before the audition, anyway).

We would then walk outside with the eighteen plates and ‘go to Band.’

The question was, would the lunch aids question the number of plates at hand?

Why, I brought it from home!

And what could they say? “YOU STOLE THEM FROM THE PIZZA LINE!”

Obviously not. It would be absurd. They wouldn’t dream of that.

So we confidently signed out to band, me holding the eighteen plates, trying to look as innocent as possible. We then left the lunch room, turning left, which is the direction to the band room. When it seemed that it was ‘unsuspicious,’ we crawled under the windows of the lunch-room doors (so the lunch aids don’t see us walk the other way), and ran full-speed to the lockers. (There was a teacher there, walking down the hallway. I wonder if they suspected anything. Oh well.)

On our “Operation Pi,” my friend and I casually walked over to another friend’s locker, who was also part of “Operation Pi,” and had the closest locker to the lunch room.

Having memorized her combination, I opened her locker, stuffed the plates in, and then we ran back to the lunch room, prepared to say “The band teacher didn’t want us there—he had a high school band lesson” if the lunch aids ever questioned our return.

Operation Pi—DONE!

Well, the first part, anyway.

 

Ninth period, during math, I walked inside, and Mr. Vallo was helplessly handing out the plates (how funny was it that just five periods ago, we were taking them from the pizza line thingy), and handing out the cookie pie that J had bought.

Now, my other friend E, as I said, had brought in two pies in consideration of the wonderful occasion, but our wimpy math teacher said, “No, no, this is more than enough. More than enough.”

He looked all bewildered and scared.

It was strange.

 

AND AN OUTRAGE! THINK OF THE POOR KIDS IN AFRICA, WHO DON’T EAT PIES!

And think of M, who did not get to eat pie!

So, this occasion was a half-success (in stealing plates, which was actually fun), and a half-fail (we did not eat the TWO WHOLE PIES.)

So the half success and half fail cancel each other out, so today was an ordinary day.

 

whew- I got that story out.

Happy late pi day! Let’s hope Mr. V won’t stay a wimp his whole life! :D