Johnny hated math class. Absolutely loathed it. The numbers swam before his eyes, the equations looked like alien hieroglyphics, and Mr. Henderson, the math teacher, had a voice that could put a caffeinated hummingbird to sleep. One particularly dreadful Monday, Mr. Henderson was droning on about fractions.
“Now, Johnny,” Mr. Henderson said, his gaze landing squarely on Johnny, who was desperately trying to draw a convincing-looking dragon in his notebook, “If I have a pie, and I cut it into eight slices, and I give one slice to Susie, two slices to Billy, and… and… six slices to your cat, what fraction of the pie is left?”
Johnny blinked. “Six slices to my cat?” he asked, bewildered. “Mr. Henderson, Princess Fluffybutt wouldn’t eat six slices of pie! She’s a delicate creature. Mostly she eats tuna and judges me.”
Mr. Henderson sighed. “Just humor me, Johnny. It’s a hypothetical pie.”
Johnny shrugged. “Okay, fine. Hypothetically, Princess Fluffybutt has developed a sudden, uncharacteristic craving for excessive amounts of pie.” He paused, thinking hard. “Okay, so…one eighth to Susie, two eighths to Billy… and six eighths to Princess Fluffybutt. That’s… um…” He glanced at his dragon. “Negative one eighth?”
Mr. Henderson rubbed his temples. “No, Johnny. Think logically. You started with one whole pie.”
Johnny looked up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I got it! No pie is left. Princess Fluffybutt ate it all. But… I’m pretty sure she’d be throwing up rainbow fur balls later.”
Mr. Henderson just stared. The whole class erupted in giggles.
“That’s… technically… correct,” Mr. Henderson mumbled, defeated. “But that’s not the answer I was looking for.”
Johnny beamed. “Well, Mr. Henderson, maybe next time you should use a less tempting hypothetical cat.”
