Where do thoughts come from?
You know, like you’re sitting in Maths and the teacher is droning on about isosceles triangles, and suddenly into your mind pops the thought that you’d really like a big date scone with jam and whipped cream. Which has nothing to do with isosceles triangles.
Or you’re sitting on the bus on the way home from school and all at once you imagine that the bus is going to lift off the ground like a UFO and fly out into orbit.
Where do thoughts like that come from? I don’t know. I’m not a scientist, or a psychologist or anything like that. I’m just a kid. But I do know where some thoughts come from. Like the time that Frau Blüchner in French class wrote ‘knickers’ on the board instead of ‘naître’. I know where that thought came from. It came from me.
Perhaps I should explain. Let’s start with this: my name is Jacob John Smith, and this is the story of the crime of the century.