Joshua T Howell
“Check this out”
Steven wasn’t concentrating on the class work they’d been set.
“Ben, check this out”
Now Ben wasn’t concentrating, he hadn’t really been able to concentrate since the shuffle around in 6Bs seating plan. Miss Boronsko had made the switch from alphabetical to a more culturally diverse spreading of age order within the year six class. “No more Mohammed’s in the middle” was the chant, Miss B was actually a bit nervous at the racist-sounding-ness of the slogan but persevered nonetheless. Although I mean she hadn’t even said it out loud but you know, ‘NSA’ etc.
Whipping out his new Casio FX-115MS-SC-UH and handing it to Ben, Steven began;
“So you take the number of potential puns about UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon’s name made on the internet and World of Warcraft.”
“Right.” Ben tapped away.
“Divided by the number of closeted dick jokes ready to go to print by DMG media.”
“Wait, is this going to be political?”
Stephen assured him it was.
Ben continued tapping.
“Now, multiply by the current levels of radiation at the geographical centre, ground zero if you will, of the Chernobyl disaster and add the first number.”
“OK, is this going to carry on much long…” Ben’s voice trailed off has he hit enter.
He’d never expected this, this was big.
The answer? 80085.