The Pie Problem – A novel

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To design a pie is overwhelming for a nine year old kid but the show must go on. There are the people who could crack the rubric cube yet gasp at the pie. The pie number 3.1417 has to be cut proportionally into 10 cubes and later on if you are successful, you could walk away with the pie you like. The voice of the instructor hollered in the classroom, the kids kept their heads down glued to impending disasters in the books the school wrote or rewrote on the intervention of the parents.

” This must stop,” had exclaimed Mr Sin walking out of the room.

He was  the parent of Joe Sukle who was brilliant in his own ways and had successfully championed the cause of kids who needed  extra attention for they were extra ordinary.

The Headmaster had bowed out to the management board when they heard the reports of Joe Sukle who conquered one mathematical problem after the other as if he was eating beans off his uncle’s farm.

“Yo must rest” said the lady at the counter.

Having come out of the class Joe Sukle was holding a copy of The New York Times and shaking his hands as if the whole world spilled over the edge of the newspaper.

His world was contained in the papers, He was a voracious reader but the problem of Pie was challenging for him. How could a fraction be divided into integers equally that too ten in  number He mulled over and felt there was something wrong out there.

The lady had come closer to him and shook his right hand.

“I am PeeWee, the mother of Wee who had praised you a lot. Nice to meet you.”

Joe Sukle stood there as immobile as a heavy boulder and hardly showed any emotion of surprise or angst though he would be anxious on meeting new people. Today was different, the pie must bear the fruit or I am not going to eat dinner thought Joe Sukle.

The lady was adamant that he talked but he would not budge a word.

So the lady went her way while Joe looked into the distance saw the crowd of boys coming and decided to move to the edge of the corridor on the far side and doodle with his sharp pencil a pie as if it has to be decorated with a pasta sauce but he had changed his mind and instead coloured it with a blue pencil and wrote in the green as shell worm. The higher intelligence was at judgement and the apocalypse was imminent as he sneezed and wiped his nose sluggishly while pondering over the blue heavens which he had indicated on the paper as where the God lived and upon his will would pursue him in hot pursuit to chase the devil that claimed the pie was a chart which mattered as nothing but a dish to be served on the platter in the hotel. He was silent when the bell rang and the break was over while Geography teacher waited on the door for the kids to assemble as if it was the Rocky mountains where they loitered.


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