Obesseus sat at the desk, squinting at the chalkboard like it had personally insulted his lunch.

Josh Jollyrancher tapped the board with his chalk.

“Two x plus six equals ten.”

Obesseus raised his hand.

“Yes?” Josh said, already tired.

“Why that number got a chopstick?” Obesseus asked.

Josh blinked. “That’s not a chopstick. That’s the letter x.”

“It look like chopstick,” Obesseus said confidently. “Single chopstick. Not even a pair. Very suspicious.”

Josh sighed and wrote a bigger x.

“This is a variable.”

Obesseus leaned forward. “Variable like buffet?”

“No.”

“Variable like sometimes gravy, sometimes lemon water?”

“No.”

“So why number holding chopstick?”

The room went quiet.

Josh pinched the bridge of his nose. “The x represents an unknown.”

Obesseus gasped and slid his chair back.

“Unknown food is dangerous,” he whispered. “That how people get tricked into eating salad.”

Josh tried again.

“You move the six to the other side.”

Obesseus stared. “Why six allowed to leave but chopstick number stays?”

“Because six is a constant.”

Obesseus slammed the desk. “THAT NOT FAIR. All numbers deserve same rights.”

Josh erased the board and drew apples instead.

“If you have two groups of apples…”

Obesseus interrupted. “Are they fried?”

“No.”

“Breaded?”

“No.”

“Then why you bringing them into this.”

Josh’s lemon water glass cracked.

“Focus,” he said. “Solve for x.”

Obesseus squinted at the equation again.

“So… chopstick number plus six equals ten.”

“Yes.”

“If Obesseus eats six…”

“No one is eating the six.”

“…then chopstick number left with four?”

Josh froze.

“…divide by two,” Obesseus continued slowly. “Chopstick number becomes two.”

The chalk snapped in half.

Josh stared. “That’s… correct.”

The classroom shook. The desks rattled. A gravy alarm went off for reasons no one could explain.

Obesseus stood up proudly.

“See?” he said. “Math just hungry.”

Josh Jollyrancher stared into his lemon water.

“Next lesson,” he muttered, “we remove the chopsticks.”