The prompt: Two characters discussing the lethality of pencils by C.

“Stabbing.”

“Cancer.”

“Lead poisoning.”

There was a pause.

“That would be most unlikely.”

“Statistics exist.”

“Pencils are made of graphite and clay. Not lead.”

“Huh.”

“What else?”

“Jousting.”

This time he looks up. She’s in her chair, leaning over an armrest, legs hanging over the other.

“The small kind, I assume?”

“The normal kind. If we can make a 65-foot pencil, no reason why not a tournament-sized one.”

“It won’t pierce armour.”

“It’d be lightweight. Momentum from galloping horses.” She smiled viciously.

He gives up. Throws down the pencil.

“Will you be serious?”

She laughs. “When we’re talking about absurdity? Never.”