Mr. Simmons (Reading Phoebe's poem in front of the class)
- I hear your name, like a bell, ringing, ringing, in my heart.
(while Mr. Simmons reads a poem by "anonymous")
Stinky
- Gosh, Helga, yer slidin' down in yer chair like it was yer poem or somethin'.
Helga
- Be quiet, idiot!
Stinky
- Well, ya are.
- Phoebe
- (to the statue of Emily Dickenson) What do you want from me?!
- Emily
- If it isn't Little Miss Smarty Pants
- Phoebe
- You're an inanimate object! You can't talk!
- Emily
- And YOU can't write poetry!
- Phoebe
- I'm not listening!
- Emily
- (in a soft menacing voice) Cheater...! Cheater....!
- Phoebe
- (squeals hiding her face then peeks back out)
- Emily
- ...cheater :)
- Phoebe
- (screaming) AHH!!!
- Wartz
- Is that true young lady? Did you really write a wonderful poem?
- Phoebe
- Oh sir, I can't write...
- Wartz
- Ah nonsense. We're proud of our multi-cultural students here at PS 118. Where do you come from Phoebe?
- Phoebe
- Kentucky, sir.
- Wartz
- Phoebe, let's make Ken-Tuk-Ay proud on Thursday.
Stinky
- Poor Helga. She's been shot through the heart by a purty poem.
