“Dude… It doesn’t work if you use super-glue. You have to use Clag, for maximum slideability.” Anita’s secret weapon ha s begun to take shape, if a somewhat unconventional shape. Tara glances over at the collapsible card table on which Anita’s newest idea is slowly but surely sliding apart.
“Maybe if we mix the Clag with super-glue it won’t slide so much.” Jazzo, fountain of inspiration, unsuccessfully attempts to unstick her melted cholates. If only she’d bought No Frills, it never would’ve happened.
“But we need it to slide,” Anita whines like a train.
It does indeed slide, right out of Anita’s hands, off the wonky card table, into her soaked moccasins. Nat, meanwhile, sat on a dry patch of floor with Oriental two-minute noodles slowly cooking over a makeshift camping stove (read: small saucepan held over four candles). Surveying the wreckage, she duly notes, “I think we’re gonna need some more paddle pop sticks... Just don’t get the rainbow ones, they give me nightmares.”
Tara also surveys the mess that was going to be a weapon of some destruction, with less optimism. “Dude, paddle pop sticks and Clag are not going to bring down a newly walking toddler, let alone Mr Zukerman. You are delusional.”
“Why are we attacking Zukerman?” Jazzo mumbles around her chocolate. (She never did get them apart.)
Shrill, yet growling scream that defies explanation is emitted from Anita. “Dude! How many times do I have to explain it!?-” Anita is thankfully silenced by a sound head-thunking, credited to Tara and his green lunchbox, which is green.
“Because if we get him out of the way, the school is as good as ours,” Nat explains. Her noodles are not ready. Darn. “I like him as much as the next person, but we all know he’s the real power. Morris can’t hurt us, and Knott would be too shocked to notice us storming the Common Room. Zukerman controls the rest of them… and has many lead pencils. Plus, he has Bob.”
“True.” Jazzo is satisfied, if a little sick from chocolate. Nat decides she has no qualms with cold noodles. Anne tries in vain to repair her failed implement of doom, and is likely to receive another head-thwunk from Tara at any minute, for sheer insanity.
“Oh, dudes… We are so gonna need more paper clips-”