milliways_bar | (no subject)

When Wilford comes in for lunch today, he passes Fry, and can't help looking st what he's doing. Which is, what, exactly?

"What in the hell are you doing now?"

"Homework." Fry says. "My new teacher wants me to find as many uses for the beans as possible."

Beat.

"I could plant them, but I'm going to do that last, because then I won't be able to do anything else with them."

Wilford glances down at Fry's journal, and then reaches over to the little basket on the edge of the table, and pulls a straw out.

"That one should be obvious," he says, dropping the straw down in front of Fry.

Fry looks at the straw, then at the beans.

Then he puts the straw in the middle, and puts five beans on each side.

'2. I can divide the beans into two equal groups of five.'

Wilford rolls his eyes, and sits down at a nearby table so he can eat his lunch without spilling it down his front. He's never seen a kid with no imagination before. It's not right.

"If you're doing math, you can be here all day."

Seriously, Fry. Raise some hell for once.

"Well the idea is to have as many different things as possible. Do you think each of the maths will count as a separate one?"

He arranges them differently, then writes.

'3. I can arrange them into a triangle'

"Which means there's no rules to what you can and can't do, right?" Wilford asks. "Break 'em into pieces and get more out of them. If someone's annoying you, shove one in the charge port of their phone."

Imagination, Fry!

"Wait." Fry says. "Once I cut them, I can't put them back together again. If I'm going to cut them I should do it last."

He raises an eyebrow. "Why would you put a bean in their charge port? What if you had to pay for it?"

"What kind of idiot doesn't insure their phone?"

Once the unwitting victim pried the bean out, it's normal wear and tear

"What, bean insurance?"

Fry looks sceptical that this exists.

"No. I thought all kids had phones by now. Don't you?"

Maybe he does, and his folks just never told him he could potentially get a better model if he breaks his.

"No, most of my class do, but I have a special watch." Fry shows him. "I can call my parents or 999."

They can also track where he is.

Wilford looks at it. How absolutely paranoid and over-protective of Fry's parents.

"Can you watch movies on that thing?"

Why would you want to? The screen is the size of a postage stamp.

"No. I'm getting a proper phone for my birthday."

Fry wonders sometimes if Wilford actually knows how old he is. He's not the only one in his class without a phone.

Wilford doesn't care how old Fry is. He just thinks his parents have an awful lot to answer for.

"Good. You could use some unsupervised time on the internet."

"What for?" Fry asks.

"Because it's good for a kid your age to raise some hell sometimes."

Instead of behaving like a middle-aged accountant in the body of an eight year old.

"Are you suggesting I become some sort of hacker?"

"How in the hell did you get from looking at websites you're not supposed to, to becoming a hacker?" Wilford asks.

Jesus, this kid has problems.

"Well I'm assuming you're not expecting me to look at porn."

"No, that's exactly what I'm expecting. Swimsuit editions, at the very least. Leave the weird stuff until you're in high school."

If the kid knows what porn is, then he's old enough to be sneaking a peek at it.

"I'm eight." Fry says. "Don't be ridiculous."

Wilford sighs, and starts eating his lunch. There's no hope for this kid.

"I'm just trying to help you have some fun."

If he doesn't want to have fun, that's his problem.

"I'm open to fun. I just don't want it to involve a call to my social worker."

"Social worker? You got a record?"

Did Fry just accidentally become a smidge more interesting?