Okay, this is my favorite song ever. MCR is my favie band ever (other than The Beatles). So I'm sorry if y'all don't like them (I know they're a love 'em or hate 'em band) but please don't flame my music tastes!
This is supposed to be the origin of the pencil trick (how 'bout a magic trick...) and I just discovered that there's another oneshot out about it. Pleeeease don't think that I'm taking your idea!!
Chapter 6: Pencils
Accompanying Track: I'm Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance
"Ja-a-ack..." one of the girls called, sitting across from the lank boy. He did not look up, and stayed staring at his rough palms. I hate people.
"Jacky dear..." she cooed, flipping her blond locks. A few people behind her giggled, but the boy did not look up. He was grinding his teeth though, and the girl sitting across from him could tell.
"Come on Jack, give us a little smile." she sang, standing and putting her perfectly manicured hands on his high, bony shoulders. He growled audibly, making May's mocking smile fall right off her face.
"If you don't get off me, I'll kill you." he said. Her boyfriend snorted, and yanked young Jack's shoulder so that they'd have to face each other. Jack's eyes darted from the musclebound idiot in front of him to the door of the cafeteria. It would be a straight shot, and he could get home as quickly as possible. He could grab his backpack then, and run as far away as possible.
But there would be no getting around this muscle brained freak; not without being pounded to a pulp. And what did Jack have to defend himself with?
No knife, no gun, not even a can of pepper spray. All he had was a stupid pencil. He ground his teeth. Oh well. Shoulda brought the Swiss Army Knife, but there's no helping that now.
Jack stood, meeting the gorilla's blue gaze and smiling. Come to think of it, this would be better than a Swiss Army Knife.
"You better apologize to my girl right now, ya freak!" he shouted, sending a spray of spittle in Jack's face. He squirmed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Yes. This would be much more satisfying than the Swiss Army Knife.
"Apologize to the blond bitch? Never."
Musclehead fisted his hands and prepared himself for hitting Jack in the face. Jack giggled. This wouldn't just be better, not even satisfying. This would be funny as hell.
"What're ya laughin' at, freak?" he shouted. Jack twitched a little; Musclehead laughed his heavy, dull laugh.
"Don't call me a freak." he spat.
"Huh huh huh. Freak!" Musclehead shouted.
Jack stabbed the white cafeteria table with vigor. The pencil stayed erect; pointed and gleaming. Jack began to laugh uncontrolably, banging the table with his fist.
"Hahaha-don't-haha-call-hahaha-me-hahaha-a-haha-FREAK!"
Jack grabbed Musclehead's head and shoved it into the pencil. He could hear the pops and cracks of a breaking skull, and as Musclehead fell, a scream erupted from the blond.
Jack walked by swiftly; without a care, leaving his weapon lodged in his victim's head. He ran through the school hallways, grabbed his backpack and ran across the grassy feild, toward home.
XXXX
"What did you do in school today, Jack?" his mother asked, making a sandwich for the lanky ninth grader at the kitchen table. "And why are you home so early?"
Jack smiled broadly.