How I Learn

May 25th, 2007

I learn best when I can choose a project or something to use a specific thing that we learned in class, instead of the teacher saying, “Write a story about blah blah blah…” If I can choose what I am writing about, I learn better, because I don’t have to worry about what I am writing about, or doing research because my teacher told me to write about something that I’ve never heard of. Then I learn more about what I am writing about, not about writing. And we’re supposed to be learning about writing in an English class, aren’t we?

I would expect my teacher to do a lot of things that I can have some kind of choice for. I think it makes a lot more sense for an English teacher to assign something that is not so detailed that the entire class’s papers are almost the same. They should assign something that would allow the student to express themself, not show that they can write about the teacher’s dog.


How Emily, Sarah and I die in a horrible hot air balloon/ killer whale accident Part IV

April 24th, 2007

Ouch. This box is really uncomfortable.

Hey! There's someone screaming really loud  outside the box. It sounds like a dying cat chewing on a screwdriver getting run over by a snowplow.

"A pink snowplow." Hey! An echo! "Echo" I said.

"Echo!" The echo said. 

"Hellooooo" I said.

"Hellooooo" the echo said. 

"Emily!" Hey! I know an Emily.

"Emily!" Somebody else said. Oh.  I better echo.

"Emi-ahhhhh! EARTHQUAKE!!!!"

"Emil-AGAH!  Earthquake!" Hey! The echo's back!

I climbed out of the box.  

"Vivian!"

"Okay, so I heard this weird scream, and I said that it sounded like a  dying cat chewing on a screwdriver getting run over by a snowplow. A Pink snow plow. And then there was this echo. And it was so cool!" It was really cool.

 "Cool. Let's go back to the balloon  now. I fixed it." Oh, great. Emily 'fixed' it. 

AN HOUR LATER

We're FINALLY up in the air with everything running smoothly. I can't believe that Emily fixed it!

"I'm hungry."  Jeez. Emily is always hungry.

"Emily! Go get some  food then."

"We forgot it, Genius!" Sarah said.

"No! Melvins eating it!" Emily was right.  We all leaned over the edge of the balloon. "HEY! MELVIN! QUIT EATING OUR FOOD!" Oh no! The balloon is tipping! We're falling!

|| Pause.  <<| Rewind.

"OKAY MELVIN! YOU GO AHEAD AND EAT OUR FOOD!"

15 HOURS LATER

"Now I'm really hungry!!" Me too.

"It looks like we're right over Greece right now!" Sarah thinks she's so smart.

"Okay, let's stop here."

"Let's get pizza!"

"OKAY!" 

AN HOUR LATER

The restauant is beautiful. There's this drummer guy in a corner too! I wonder what he's for!

"Okay, let's sit here." We sat at a table. "Um. I want a pizza with tomatoes, relish, hot fudge and extra cheese." I think I scared the waitress.

This is a really good pizza! "Wow! This pizza is  really GREECE-Y! Haha!!!" I'm such a dork.

*Cricket…cricket…*

"*cough* AHEM!"  I coughed.

The drummer guy woke up. "Oh! Right!" Duhdun tshe!!! 

*cricket* 


How Emily, Sarah, and I die in a horrible tragic hot air balloon/killerwhale accident Part III

April 10th, 2007

"Emily, what's that strange screaching sound?" There was some really annoying noise, and I don't know what it is!

"Maybe it's a bird!"

"Maybe it's a plane!"

"Oh, It's just Sarah."

"Vivian, maybe we should move that really pointy rock that Sarah is just about to fall on to and die because its going to poke her right there in the heart."

"Oh! Right! That!" I never thought of that. That's probably a good idea though.  Okay, so we walked over [well, I walked. Emily was just standing there like a lump nodding her head. Gosh, she looks like an idiot.] to the rock and started trying to lift it up. That didn't work. Oh, by the way. Sarah is really slow at falling. She's really slow at other stuff too, but right now, its mostly falling. "Sarah! Can you fall a little more over there, 'cause theres this big rock right here!"

"Oh yeah! Like I can just change where I fall! Jeez, Vivian! You're such a RETARD!!"

"Hey! It's not my fault you're falling!"

"Yes it is!"

"No, it isn't Sarah, remember, EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS YOUR FAULT! It's like a law of science or p.e. or something!"

"Actually, It's EMILY's FAULT!"

"It's ally MY fault?" Jeez! Of course it's her fault that Sarah's going to DIE ANY MOMENT NOW! How did I get such stupid friends?

"BECAUSE EMILY, SARAH IS GOING TO DIE AND YOUR JUST STANDING THERE NODDING YOUR HEAD AND LOOKING STUPID."

"Actually…It's Emily's fault because she forgot to fix the hole in the stupid balloon, so I had to go to the hot air balloon store to get a fixing kit, and then I got the wrong one, and now I'm falling!"

"OOOOOOOOOH! RIGHT! I forgot how Emily is totally  killing you and putting our lives and the lives of young children and birds in danger!"

"WHAT?" What does Sarah mean, what? It's all Emilys fault that the world is going to end. Today. Wait! Where did Emily go? Oh! Maybe Emily got mad that I called her stupid, and so now she is going to beat me up, and left to go get a hockey stick. Hahah! Yeah right!

Where did Emily go? Maybe Sarah knows. "Sarah, Where did Emily go?"

"I dont' know, Vivian! I'm kind of in the middle of something here! I'm FALLING FROM THE SKY!"

"Yeah, yeah. That's nice. I'm going to go look for Emily. Toodles."

"Wait! Come BACK!"

It was a warm and sunny day. The birds were singing. Actually, they were dead. Remember, I already mentioned that. Emily killed them. Right? Anyways….I walked towards the car. I don't know what car I was  walking towards, but that didn't matter. I bet Emily was in that car. It was a strange car. It didn't have any wheels. And it was brown. Brown. What an awful color. Well, I'll get in, and see if Emily's in there. 

"Hey! You! Girl!" What? Somebody was shouting for me.

"What?" I turned around.

"Are you friends with Emily?" Yes.

"Yeah, she's my best friend!"  Oh gosh. They look mad. Maybe they are so mad because Emily had a hockey stick and they are the Alliance of People Fighting For the Pucks Rights. (The APFFPR) and so they broke her hockey stick, and now they see me, and they don't like that I am Emily's friend, so they are going to tape me into this cardboard box that I thought was a car, but it really isnt' a car. Because it is a cardboard box.

Oh gosh. I was right. Ew. It smells  in here.

My adventure inside "The Box": an Italic Story; Jeez! Like I have an italic story for this! Wow. Your gullible!!! (And Language Arts is over, and I don't have time)


How Emily, Sarah and I die in a horrible tragic hot air balloon/killer whale accident. (part II)

March 23rd, 2007

"EMILY! HOW COULD YOU FORGET TO FIX THE HOLE??"

"What? How was I supposed to-" For some reason, Sarah was laying
under the balloon. Couldn't she see we had a problem here?

"Help!" What's she whining about?

"SARAH! We have a SERIOUS problem here! EMILY is a RETARD!!!"

"HELP!" What is her PROBLEM?

"EMILY! I can't ride in a hot air balloon with you!"

"HEY! That's not fair!" How is that not fair?

"Well, I'm not getting in there with you." I am such a good friend. Then, Emily left. "Emily?"

"Sarah I'm coming!" Then Emily started running over to Sarah, who was still under the balloon.

"EMILY-Y!" I didn't understand why Emily would go and help
Sarah while I'm talking. She was CLEARLY dead. Fine. So, I went and
helped.

"Hey! Vivian's coming over."

"Sarah! Jeez!" Emily was already pulling on her arms, so I started
to pull on her feet. (Which, I must say, are HUGE! Not like, size
8 huge, I mean, size ELEVEN–CLOWN feet!–) "Why do you have to have
such big feet? I mean, these are so hard to pull!" Ow! Ow! Ow! "OW!"
Sarah (using her big clown feet) was KICKING ME in the FACE! "SARAH
STOP IT! You're kicking me in the face!" Then she started kicking
harder. "OW! SARAH KATHERINE VOGEL! STOP KICKING ME IN THE FACE!!!"

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were a raccoon."

"HEY!" Some friends I have. Jeez. You would think she would know my
blood-curdling scream by now! JEEZ! Where's Emily? I think I'll go find
her. "SARAH! I'm going to find EMILY, okay?"

"Alright, I'll fix the balloon while you're gone." Then I skipped off to find my buddy, Emily.

Hmmm. Where could she be? Oh, maybe she went to go get some
lemonade, but couldn't find a stand, so then went in to Starbucks to
buy a blueberry muffin, and spent all of Sarah's money, so now she's
making up an excuse to tell Sarah. Nah! I think I'll start at the ski
store. Don't you think that it's weird that they have a ski store on
the beach. I think so. Well, anyways. I went into the ski store.

So, my adventures in: THE SKI STORE: I walk in. I scream, "EMILY!" This guy looks at me weird. I think he's creepy. I sceam again, "EMILY!" She doesn't answer. Maybe she's dun…dun…dun…..ding. Ding? Emily just walked in the store. She's obviously not dead.

"VIVIAN!" Why's she screaming  at me?

"EMILY! I thought you were dead!"

"Oh, so I was right?" What is she talking about?

"What? Right about what?" She's a freak.

"You know. Right. About the weird face!"  Hah?

"What weird face?" I'm sorta confused.

"Your weird face!" I think she just insulted me….Hey!

"Hey! My face isn't weird! Your face is weird. You…you… you MEANIE!"

I think we should just go back to the balloon.

"Where's Sarah?"

"I don't know." We couldn't find her anywhere.

"Maybe she's…"

"dun….dun…dun….AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" 


				

How Emily, Sarah and I Died in a Horrible Tragic Hot Air Balloon/Killer Whale Accident (Part I)

March 20th, 2007

Emily, Sarah and I saw a news report (while I was eating strawberry frosted mini wheats in our dorm at Stanford) on starving children in South Africa, and decided to go there and help. I thought it would be a great idea if we walked, because you know, eating all of that cereal, we would get fat! (At the time I didn't realize that you can't walk from California to South Africa….but give me a break! I was only 19!) Emily's idea was so weird! She wanted to water ski there! (Yeah, like that would work!) But if Sarah didn't die from our accident, I would have demanded that she go see a psycaiatrist. (She wanted to steal a steamboat and store food on it….she's crazy.) So, after our 5 hour debate (I made some great points there) we decided to take a hot air balloon. It was MY idea. (Emily tries to take the credit for the things I do all the time!)

We walked to the Melvin's Hot Air Balloon Hut, and asked to rent a hot air balloon. Melvin (I bet that's not even his real name. I mean, who names their kid Melvin?) But anyway, he said that if we use on of his hot air balloons, there's a 65% chance that we'll live. So, being the super smart person that I am, I reminded them that it is only a 25% chance that we'll die! And then Emily has the nerve to tell me I am wrong, and she wasn't even right! She said we had a 45% chance that we'd die, but NO! That was WRONG! Sarah (stupid smarty-pants) goes and says, "It's a 35% percent chance," and of course she just had to be right!

We ended up buying the one with Courage the Cowardly Dog on it (Emily's choice…I know.) When we were outside, getting ready to fly it, or sail it, or whatever, I (Yes, I used my fantastic observing skills) noticed that there was a giant hole in the top. But Sarah (buried under like five million pounds of food) said, "Oh, it's all right. I bet it'll still work" Yeah, like I'm trusting her again! (Just because when ever I've trusted her, everything goes perfectly, doesn't mean that I have to trust her all the time!!) So, Emily fell asleep, so I kicked her, and she woke up. Then she said "Ow."

So, we were up in the beautiful sky. Then we went down, to the boring (very hard) ground. Because, now, I don't want to name names (erm *cough cough* EMILY) forgot to FIX THE HOLE IN THE TOP OF THE HOT AIR BALLOON! 


10 Reasons I am Going to Live Forever

March 16th, 2007

"Everybody's going to die" that's what everybody tells you. Well,
isn't that cheerful? Oh! Congratulations! You won your soccer game! By
the way, you're going to die tomorrow! Well, I am not going to be like
everybody else. I am not going to die because:

1. I don't want to (simple enough)

2. I don't smoke or anything so I won't die from that

3. Since I barely ever have my phone or money or anything, nobody will mistake it for a gun and shoot me 41 times. (that's rude)

4. I'm not Orville Redenbacher, so I'm not going to have a heartattack in a whirlpool.

5. I don't have a lot of enemies, so I hope nobody will want to murder me.

6. I'm not depressed, so I'm not going to kill myself.

7.
I don't trip as much as Emily, so she'll probably trip, and then I'll
fall on top of her, and she'll break my fall. (and she sticks the
landing) (by the way…Emily lives!)

8. And if I ever have one leg, I will not attempt to run across canada. (Maybe Africa though)

9. "That could never happen to me"

10. I'll never get into a hot air balloon with Emily.


10 Reasons I am Going to Live Forever

March 16th, 2007

"Everybody's going to die" that's what everybody tells you. Well,
isn't that cheerful? Oh! Congratulations! You won your soccer game! By
the way, you're going to die tomorrow! Well, I am not going to be like
everybody else. I am not going to die because:

1. I don't want to (simple enough)

2. I don't smoke or anything so I won't die from that

3. Since I barely ever have my phone or money or anything, nobody will mistake it for a gun and shoot me 41 times. (that's rude)

4. I'm not Orville Redenbacher, so I'm not going to have a heartattack in a whirlpool.

5. I don't have a lot of enemies, so I hope nobody will want to murder me.

6. I'm not depressed, so I'm not going to kill myself.

7.
I don't trip as much as Emily, so she'll probably trip, and then I'll
fall on top of her, and she'll break my fall. (and she sticks the
landing) (by the way…Emily lives!)

8. And if I ever have one leg, I will not attempt to run across canada. (Maybe Africa though)

9. "That could never happen to me"

10. I'll never get into a hot air balloon with Emily. 


Mr. Blackballoffurwithalittlebitofwhiteonhistailbutyoucantreallyseeit

March 16th, 2007

Do you think fifth grade is stupid? I do. We have to
do the stupidest assignments, like writing papers, and doing science
experiments. See, I have this paper due on Monday, and I don't have the
slightest idea what I'm going to write about. I could write about my
cat, Mr.
Blackballoffurwithalittlebitofwhiteonhistailbutyoucantreallyseeit. My
little sister named him, but he's boring. I could write about how I
broke my leg on the swing, but that's too gross. I could write about
the time my sister cut off all my hair, but that's too sad. I looked
exactly like Britney Spears. Ew! Yeah, fifth grade is so stupid. I
guess I could write a paper on lemonade stands, but that's too weird.
Maybe I should write a song. A song about…..oh, yeah, well, that was
a stupid idea too. (Really big sigh) I guess I'd better get started. I
mean, I don't want it to be too late on Sunday before I finish! I guess
I'll just write a story about Mr.
Blackballoffurwithalittlebitofwhiteonhistailbutyoucantreallyseeit,
(Other really big sigh) How should I write this…..

I have a cat. His name is Mr. Blackballoffurwithalittlebitofwhiteonhistailbutyoucantreallyseeit. He is a superhero…..

the girl behind the desk

February 20th, 2007

So, you walk into the seven eleven, and you grab a bag of chips. Then you go over to the counter, and hand it to the girl, she rings you up, and then you leave. But what about the girl behind the desk? She just stays there, until another ignorant customer walks in, grabs a gatorade, and leaves, without saying a single word to her. That night on the news, you hear that a Caley Treshfelt died in a car accident. You immediately think to yourself, “I don’t know her,” but you do, because that Caley Treshfelt was the girl behind the counter, but she won’t be tomorrow, because she is dead. And there’s a chance you could have saved her. Maybe not, but maybe if you had taken the time to talk to her, you and her would have become friends, and made plans for after work, maybe you would have gone to the movies, which is in the opposite direction from her house, where she was headed, until that drunk driver slammed into the side of her car. But, had you gone to the movies, there wouldn’t have been that driver on the road she was on, and he wouldn’t have hit her. (And obviously she’d still be alive) Sooooo….. The next time you go to seven eleven, or the mall, or the grocery store, or walgreens, talk to the person behind the desk. You never know…..you could save their life.


Lucky Number Seven

February 6th, 2007

seven

Why is seven lucky? In the ring, that guy calls and says “You will die in seven days” that doesn’t sound very lucky to me. But then in Las Vegas, you have to get those sevens to line up, and then you win a whole bunch of money. But how come it’s seven and not 39? Thirty-nine is just as good of a number as seven, but no one shouts, “Yeah! I lined up the 39’s!”

the ringslots


How Do You Prove to Your Parents That You Learned Something?

February 6th, 2007

I could show my mom that I learned something, by showing her my blog, and showing her the words that we learned in the nerd herd book.


Personal Curriculum

January 2nd, 2007

Script:
I am going to write a script for a movie.

Photography:
I am going to take a picture of something, and then write a story about it, but not like a normal picture, but something that you wouldnt normally take a picture of.

-


Who gets to name all of the stuff?

December 12th, 2006

Have you ever wondered who named bread “bread” and chocolate “chocolate?” Me too. Who was so powerful that they were able to make an entire language that billions of people would eventually learn. It’s not like when you’re in second grade, and you don’t want the girl that stole your crayon to know you’re talking about her, so you make up some crazy words that don’t make any sense. Who are these people is that created English, and French, and Spanish, and German, and all those languages are, and who made them the dudes who got to go around making up all of the words that everybody in the entire world would use to communicate with? That’s not fair! Okay, so lets say that these people were chosen, how did they come up with the word bread? Or computer? Or Garden? What, did they just write down some letters and say, “Behold, a language.” It’s all very confusing if you ask me.


Where did hot dogs come from?

December 6th, 2006

Where did hot dogs come from? What’s in them? Nobody knows for sure. Some people think it’s meat, fat, bread crumbs, and egg whites created by some guy in Gemany, but they don’t know the real story……

A little boy named Bobby was in his kitchen one day, cleaning out all of the expired food from the refridgerator. Bobby hated to see all of this food go to waste, so he decided that he would make a new kind of food. So, anyways, he decided to make a piece of “meat” only, he wouldn’t tell anybody what was in it. Well, pretty soon he gathered up all of the stuff his mom told him to throw away (old pickles, expired milk, and moldy bread, and some dried up turkey sandwich-at least it looked like turkey) and then he went upstairs into his bathroom. He grabbed one of those little toothbrush holder things, (the ones you put your tooth brush in to travel with) and he put all of the stuff in there. Bobby packed it in real tight so that eventually it would all grow to become one thing. A few weeks later, he found it shoved under his bed along with some socks and a math book. He took it out of the container, and sat there staring at it. Was it edible? If somebody ate it, would they live? Bobby couldn’t risk eating it himself, so he gave it to his older brother for lunch, because George would eat anything. So George stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed it up, then he said, “this is good!” with little pieces of food flying everywhere. He asked Bobby what it was called, but Bobby never thought about naming it, so George suggested “Hot Dog” because it was hot, and they had a dog named Perry. Bobby liked the name, and pretty soon he started making more and selling them to kids at school. About two years later, hot dogs became world wide. So now, people eat them with out even thinking of how much work Bobby put in to them.

–good thing Language arts is right before lunch time…    :)


My First Time at Starbucks - so many coffees!

December 5th, 2006

So I was at Starbucks for the first time (this was like three or four years ago), and I asked the lady for coffee. (Because isn’t that what you’re supposed to get when you’re at Starbucks?) Well, anyway, she just stares at me like I’m some freak! So after about ten minutes of being stared down, I asked her if there was a problem. And so she goes, “Well, what do you want? We have the coffee of the day, regular, decaf, we have the caffe latte, and the caffe americano and the white chocolate mocha, and the caffe mocha and cappuccinos and caramel macciatos, and-” Then she takes this really huge breath and continues, “We also have the iced caffe mocha, iced caffe americano, iced white chocolate mocha, iced caramel macciato, frappe, espresso, espresso macciato, espresso con panna, and if you don’t want coffee…” I thought that’s what I asked for in the first place. “We have Tazo Chai Latte, Tazo Hot Tea, Hot Chocolate, steamed cider-” She once again takes this huge breath, and then I guess she had something [[like a cat]] stuck in her throat, because she starts hacking up a furball, right there, in the middle of the store! Then she continues, “steamed milk, milk shakes, coke floates, and last but not least, fountain drinks. So what would you like, dear?” Just as I’m about to order something, she cuts in, “Oh, and we also have bottled drinks. We have vanilla bottled frappuccios, and mocha bottled frappuccinos, and coffee bottled frappuccinos, and starbucks doubleshots, and we have dasani water, and lemon dasani water, and strawberry dasani water, and we have vault, and coca-cola blak and lemon-lime powerade and mountain blast powerade and fruit punch powerade and we have hard chocolate pro slammers, and we have bottled apple juice, and bottled orange jusice. And full throttle regular and fury.” How does she remember all that?
“Yes, I’d like a regular espresso please.” Simple enough. Soon as that lady opens her mouth, I know I’m wrong again.
“Well, would you like to add a shot of flavor to that?” If it’ll get her to shut up.
“Why not?” BIG mistake.
“Okay, well, we have tons for you to choose from…we have almond, and amaretto, and caramel, and cherry, and cinnamon, and coconut, and creme de mint, and hazelnut, and irish creme and raspberry and regular vanilla and sugar free vanilla.” So after all of that you wanna know what I ended up ordering?

A free glass of water.

And THAT was my first time at Starbucks.


Upstairs

December 5th, 2006

Margaret: 

“Thank you so much. This just came up, and I didn’t have anyone to babysit, and Ashlie just loves you so much.” Mrs. Kramerhoff could just babble on, and on, and on….
“Yeah, well, I just don’t have a life.” Ashlie laughed really loud.
“Yes, well, thanks again, bye sweetie! I’ll see you later, okay Ashlie, stay here with Katie.”
“It’s Margaret.” Mrs. Kramerhoff had, well, name problems.
“Right, I’m sorry. Bye sweetie, and you listen to Mandy, okay, and dont-”
“Yeah, yeah, Mom, I got it.” Ashlie was already 14 and her mom still insisted that I babysit her! I’m 14 too!
“Bye!” Soon as the door shut, Ashlie and I ran to the living room.
“Ash, what do you wanna watch on tv?” I asked.
“Um, I don’t know, whatever you want, I’ll get the soda.”
“Hey, theres South Park, wanna watch that? Or figure skating? Or news, or, or, music videos.”
“How about South Park? Maggie, do you want coke or cream soda?”
“Uh, I’ll have coke, thanks, Ashlie.” For about three hours, we sat on the couch, drinking soda and getting fat while we watched South Park. Then we heard a noise coming from upstairs.
“Margaret, did you hear that?”
“Yeah. Did you get a dog that I should know about?” Ashlie shook her head.
“Nope. Well, I’ll go see what it is. Something probably just fell off of a shelf. It happens all the time. Like this one time, my mom was down in the basement, and she heard a bump, so she called the police and told them that there were theives in our house. Yeah, well, it turned out to be my skateboard sliding off of my bed.” Ashlie walked up the stairs and disappeared into some room.

While I was waiting downstairs, i started surfing through channels, looking for something to watch. Nothing good was on today. Two hours went by, and Ashlie still hadn’t come back down. “Ash? Ashlie?” I started to walk up the stairs. Ashlie was probably just pulling a prank. What else could have happened? “Ash?” I poked my head into Ashlie’s room. It was red and black, and covered in pictures of stuff like skateboards, and South park, and her cat that died last summer, and her friends. I love her room so much. ”Ashlie?” No response. “Ashlie, this isn’t funny anymore,” I was starting to get scared now. Ashlie had done stuff like this before, but she would always burst out laughing, so it never lasted long. “ASHLIE!” Now, I was down right panicing, I knew that Ashlie would have stopped by now if it was a joke. That’s when I heard a noise coming from downstairs. “Ashlie?” Maybe she didn’t hear me screaming…it’s possible. Right? “Ash?” I started to walk down the stairs. “Ash, are you there?” Suddenly a hand clamped over my left shoulder. Thinking it was Ashlie, I turned around to find a man with duct tape. Lots and lots of duct tape.
“Looking for your friend, Margaret?” How did he know my name?
“Ye-uh-yeah, have you- you seen her?” He grabbed my by the neck and led me into the basement.
“Stay here, or Ashlie dies.”
“Who are, sir? What do you want, anything, money, gold? What? What do you want, name your price.” I was in tears now. “Please, or, take me. Take me instead of Ashlie if it’s her you want. I’ll do anything, please, sir, just leave Ashlie alone.”
“Stay right here,” the man repeated. I watched as the man ran up the stairs. I knew that if I did anything, the man would kill my best friend. So I sat in the dark, cold, room, and waited. I waited for the man to come get her, or Ashlie to come down alive, or, or to wake up from this horrible nightmare. Twenty minutes later I heard a gunshot and I knew Ashlie was dead, I just knew it. I ran up the stairs, he already killed Ashlie, so what could he do if I didn’t stay in the basement? I kept running and running until I turned into Ashlie’s bedroom. There was Ashlie, and the man. The man, laying there on the ground, bleeding, while Ashlie stood over him, facing the door. In her hand was her grandpa’s gun, and it was pointed at me!

Ashlie:

“Thank you so much. This just came up, and I didn’t have anyone to babysit, and Ashlie just loves you so much.” My mom is so weird.
“Yes, well, thanks again, bye sweetie! I’ll see you later, okay Ashlie, stay here with Katie.”
“It’s Margaret.” Why can’t she get Margaret’s name right, I mean, she’s my best friend!
“Right, I’m sorry. Bye sweetie, and you listen to Mandy, okay, and dont-”
“Yeah, yeah, Mom, I got it.” I kinda sorta understand a 14 year old having a babysitter if they have some whacko mother who just won’t let them stay home alone, [[like mine]] but what I don’t get is why I need a 14 year old babysitter! She’s two months older than me, and my mom’s putting her in charge! These are strange times.
“Bye!” Soon as my “mother” left, we ran into the living room like usual.
“Ash, what do you wanna watch on tv?” I love Margaret, she always asks what I want to watch, instead of just changing the channel.
“Um, I don’t know, whatever you want, I’ll get the soda.” I don’t care much for tv, I’d rather do something active.
“Hey, theres South Park, wanna watch that? Or figure skating? Or news, or, or, music videos.”
“How about South Park? Maggie, do you want coke or cream soda?” Haha! South Park is hilarious!
“Uh, I’ll have coke, thanks, Ashlie.” Maggie drinks WAY too much coke! So we spent three hours being lazy and laughing our heads off. Then I heard this noise upstairs.
“Margaret, did you hear that?” Maybe it was just me.
“Yeah. Did you get a dog that I should know about?” How could I have possibly gotten a dog and kept it a secret this long? I can’t even play hide and seek with out screaming, ‘I’m over here!’
“Nope. Well, I’ll go see what it is. Something probably just fell off of a shelf. It happens all the time. Like this one time, my mom was down in the basement, and she heard a bump, so she called the police and told them that there were theives in our house. Yeah, well, it turned out to be my skateboard sliding off of my bed.” That happens all the time, so I walked up the stairs into my room.

There was this man, sitting there, on my bed. It was so scary! I had no idea who he was! All I saw was him, and some duct tape. “Hi, can I help you?” I’m training for Wal Mart.
“I’m Scott P. Reid. Just do what I tell you, and nobody will get hurt.” Who is this guy, yeah, yeah, I know, Scott P. Reid.
“Excuse me? You don’t walk into my house and start telling me what to do!” Who does he think he is, and don’t you dare say Scott P. Reid, ’cause his name don’t tell me a thing! “Sir, I want you to leave.”
“Oh, and what’s a little ballerina such as yourself gonna do about that?” What a jerk.
“Will you shut up, sir? Please!” Come into my room and call me a ballerina, well, well, psh!
He grabbed me and shoved me into this tiny little closet after that. Then I heard him leave the room. Was he going to hurt Margaret? I couldn’t let him do that. She was my best friend in the entire world, and I would do anything for her. I ran over to my dresser, and pulled out a .45 calliber pistol that my grandpa gave me in case of an emergency [[I thought it was an odd 5th birthday present]] I could here Scott coming back into the room, but I would make too much noise going back into the closet, so I hid behind the bright white drapes, hoping my shadow wouldn’t show through. I don’t know if he knew I was there because he stayed in the room for a long time, just sitting there, like he was expecting something. So I stayed there, watching him stare at the closet. I don’t know how long I had been there because I didn’t have a watch, but I knew it was a long time. There was movement downstairs, and suddenly, Scott got up and left. Oh, I was so scared he was going to murder Margaret. Like, two minutes later I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, but I didn’t know who it was, until I heard Maggie’s voice, ”Ash? Ashlie?” What could I do? I couldn’t say a word, or Scott would kill both of us for sure! “Ash?” I saw her peek into my room, I wanted so much to tell her where I was, and about Scott, but I couldn’t. “Ashlie?” I kept quiet. “Ashlie, this isn’t funny anymore,” you have no idea how much I wanted to yell, ‘Margaret, I’m over here, this isn’t a joke!’ But I just couldn’t.  I know I  had done stuff like that before, but I would keep bursting out laughing hysterically, so she figured it out within two seconds. “ASHLIE!” I could tell she was scared, and I knew that she knows I would never go on with a prank this long, especially if it started to scare her. Then there was this noise coming from downstairs, I bet Margaret heard it too, ’cause she said, “Ashlie?” She was calming down. She probably thought that noise was me. “Ash?” She started walking down the stairs again. “Ash, are you there?” I could hear her looking all over the house. I saw Scott walk past the doorway towards the stairs. Margaret! 
I could hear him talking to her, “Looking for your friend, Margaret?” How did he know her name?
“Ye-uh-yeah, have you- you seen her?” This must have been happening on the staircase, because I could hear every last word, until what sounded like he was forcing her down the stairs.
What I’m guessing was about ten minutes later, Scott started to run back up the stairs, so I stood as still as I could, trying not to even breathe. For about twent minutes [[probably]] I wondered where Maggie was, and whether she was alive. I came up with this horrid story about how he tortured her, and she had died a slow painful death. That was enough motivation for me. I came out of the curtains, and I shot him, and he dropped to the floor.  I heard somebody running up the stairs. Was it Margaret, or a friend of Scott’s? I didn’t know what to do, if I just stood there, and it was a friend of Scott’s, he would kill me, unless I shot first. But if it turned out that Scott didn’t kill Maggie, then it would be her, and I could end up shooting her. I could never forgive myself, so I decided that I was going to point the gun at the door, but only shoot if it wasn’t Margaret. I’d have to think fast though when they got to the door, because it only takes a second to pull the trigger on a gun. As the person approached the door, I turned and aimed [[didn’t shoot]] there was Margaret, and she looked horrified. This would take forever to explain.


Uhhhhh…..

November 28th, 2006

I walked in to the giant house. Right then, some lady came up and hugged me. I didn’t want to be rude, but I had no idea who she could possibly be. She asked if I remembered her, and I didn’t, but what was I supposed to say? I guess she could tell that I thought she was weird, and I didn’t know who she was, because she said, “I’m John’s mother.” Okay, that’s good to know, too bad I haven’t got the slightest idea who John is. “Who’s John?” I tried to sound polite, but how can you be polite when some lady that you don’t know is right there hugging you? “Oh, he is, he is this boy, oh, he’s not here, but you know him right? That boy, that one, with the, the brown hair, and the red shirt, oh, but he is not here right now…” What? How could she have expected me to know who ‘the boy with the brown hair and the red shirt’ is, for all I know, he’s my brother! Well, anyways, she kept describing John to me, and I still had no clue who he was, but after hours of talking to her, she spotted someone else…..


Parable Thingy

November 7th, 2006

The girl just sat there staring at the group of people talking. What they were saying was making her so angry. How could they say that about her best friend? She just watched themj gossiping and telling lies about this girl she’d known her whole life. But no matter how mad it made her, she wouldn’t tell them to stop.

THE NEXT DAY…

The best friend sat in the room. Listening to the others talk badly about the girl. When the girl walked in the room, and heard the people talking about her, and she saw the best friend just sitting there, not telling them how wrong they were. The girl ran home crying, but as she did, she thought about when those girls were talking about her best friend, she hadn’t said or done anything either.


Here is my scavenger hunt. I couldn’t find all the words, so it’s really small.

November 7th, 2006

She heard the doorbell ring, so she walked to the front door, before she got there, she felt a rush of heat on her left side. She turned to see where it had come from, and saw a big dog, breathing on her arm. Madison wanted to scream, but she knew that if she did, the dog would kill her, so she just ran away. She ran to Gaipa Park. She hated that park, but it was the only place that she knew how to get to. Maddie didn’t dislike the park because the playground was small, or all the swings were broken, but she hated the park because she had seen so many kids fall off the broken swings, and the bars, and everything else. Some of the kids had died, others had gotten up, and started playing again, but just thinking of the kids who had died gave her a broken heart. Her brother had been one those kids who had died. When he was five years old, he was playing on the high bar, when it broke, and he fell on to a sharp rock, which had cracked his skull.


Jennie’s Wish

October 31st, 2006

Jennie Emerson sat at her frosty window. This would be her last Christmas for sure. Everybody was going to die eventually, Jennie knew that. But what really got to her was that she was going to die before everybody else. It just wasn’t fair. Suddenly, Jennie heard a knock at the door. It was her younger sister, Marnie.
“Jennie, are you okay?” Marnie asked. Jennie turned away. She didn’t want Marnie to see her crying.
“I’m fine, Marns, I’m fine,” replied Jennie through wet eyes.
“You don’t look fine, Jennie,” Marnie was about to burst out crying. She was only eight years old, and she couldn’t handle her thirteen-year-old sister dying. Somebody was calling Jennie’s name.
“Jennie!” It was her older sister, Kathryn. Kathryn walked in the door, and noticed the streaks on Jenne’s wet cheeks. “Jennie, are you alright? Do you need anything? I just came up here to see if you wanted any egg nog.” Jennie shook her head. She didn’t want to eat anything. She was too busy thinking of all of the things she would miss out on. As she thought of all her favorite things, Jennie decided this might be her last chance for egg nog.
“Katie? I changed my mind. May I have a little bit?” Kathryn looked at her.
“Sure you can….” Kathryn was tearing up. She and Jennie were only two years apart. They had been best friends. But now, the Lukemia was taking over, and tearing them apart. Forever. Kathryn ran over and hugged Jennie. Marnie ran out of the room to get a cookie.
“Katie? I don’t want to die. I want to be able to have chocolate chip cookies, and strawberries, and I wanna be able to go to the park, and ride rollercoasters, and I want to see my friends, and Grandma. How’s Grandma? Is she going to be alright? I’ll never see her again! Katie! Please, help me, don’t let it take me. Katie, I’d do anything for just five more years. Please, Katie!” Jennie was crying harder than ever.
“Jen, you know I would do anything for you, I really would, but Jen. Jen, you know I can’t. There’s nothing I can do. I can’t do anything, and it’s bothering me, Jennie. It really is bothering me.” Jennie looked disappointed. She knew Katie couldn’t do anything, but she was hoping Kathryn would say she could, and that everything would be alright. But that’s not what she said. Instead she told the truth. Like always.
TWO HOURS LATER…

Jennie sat there, fingering the locket that hung around her neck. It was in the shape of a heart. Her father had given it to her before he died. He had said that it was good for one wish, and to use it wisely, because she could never get that wish back. “Just close your eyes and wish, wish like your life depended on it,” he would say. Jennie knew her wish. She carefully unhooked the silver clip. Jennie put the necklace in her left hand. For about ten minutes, Jennie sat there, dangling the silver out the window. She closed her eyes and wished. “I want to live, please let me live, Dad. Please! I want to live, I want to live, I want to live…..” Jennie unclenched her fist, and let the locket fall into the snow.

EIGHT YEARS LATER…

Jennie opened her brown eyes. It was Christmas morning! Jennie’s 21st Christmas! She quickly dialed the phone and called Katie to wish her a Merry Christmas. After talking to Kathryn for three hours, she walked down to her best friend, Sabrina’s dorm, and knocked on the door. When the door sprung open, Sabrina threw her hands around Jennie, and said, “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, Sabrina!” Sabrina threw a small red box in to Jennie’s hands. “Open it!”
“But Sabrina, I wanted you to open your present first!” Jennie handed a large, silver box to Sabrina.
“No! Open yours first!” Sabrina was being stubborn.
“Okay, fine.” Jennie tore off the the red paper, and lifted up the lid on the box. It was a silver locket in the shape of a heart. It was a little rusty, but Jennie loved it.
“I found it in the street about eight years ago, really close to your apartment building. When I saw it, I just thought of you. I meant to give it to you that Christmas, but I forgot, and then you know…. I moved and all..I should have given it to you though, maybe for your birthday, or, if I had remembered, as a late present. I can’t believe how much I forget things, so oh, you must be mad, I’m sorry, oh, I hope…”
Jennie cut Sabrina off,”Sabrina, I love it.”


“I Would Walk on Broken Glass For You, Darlin’”

September 26th, 2006

Mrs. Paulsor, a red-haired lady, walked in to the living room.

“Darling!” she shouted, with a strong New York accent. “Darling, now let me see you.” Mrs. Paulsor put her bony hands with inch-long fingernails on little Derrick’s forehead. “Oh, darling, you got the flu.”

“But, but Mrs. Paulsor, I…I feel, I feel fine!” replied Derrick, nervously. The last time he upset his grandmother, she tried to burn the house down.

“Darling, you stay, here, I’m gonna go get you some…medicine, Darlin’ okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Derrick said. Mrs. Paulsor walked in to the kitchen and got a bottle of something. Then she mixed it with a bottle of something else. Even Mrs. Paulsor didn’t know what she was putting, she was just hoping that, what ever it was, it would turn out poisonous. Finally, she put a single drop in to the mixture, and it exploded. Shocked by the explosion, Mrs. Paulsor knocked a glass dish to the ground, which shattered. Mrs. Paulsor bent down to clean up the mess, but instead, pricked her finger on a sharp blade of glass.

“Ouch!” Mrs. Paulsor immediatley put her finger in her mouth. “Ah, well, I’ll just leave it.” As Mrs. Paulsor turned around, her bare foot landed right on top of the pile of broken glass. Mrs. Paulsor cried in pain. Then she limped out of the kitchen with the bottle of “medicine” hidden behind her back.

Limping out of the kitchen, Mrs. Paulsor said, “Here you go, sweetie. Something to fix your…your, what was it I said you had?”

“Flu,” Derrick finished her sentence, as he looked for what she had brought out. .

“Oh, thank you, Darlin’, your flu…yeah, that’s what it’ll fix.” Derrick just looked at his grandmother. What was going on?

Mrs. Paulsor interrupted Derrick’s thoughts, “Now, sweetie, I want you to just close your eyes and swallow, okay?” Mrs. Paulsor tried to pry open Derrick’s lips, but he held them tightly shut. “Darlin’ I need to give this to you, it’ll fix your little, illness that you got goin’ on here. Okay? One, two, THREE!” Mrs. Paulsor poured the potion down his throat. Immediatley, Derrick looked better. “You feelin’ better, Darlin’?” asked Mrs. Paulsor, hoping he would drop dead.

“Yes, Mrs. Paulsor, very much! Thank you!” Derrick shouted. His “flu” really was gone.

Mrs. Paulsor replied sarcastically, “Well isn’t that just swell, Darlin’.” Mrs. Paulsor turned away, and quietly said to herself, “Stupid medicine” Then, she turned back around to Derrick. “Here, you lay down, there may be some side effects, I want you to have some…um, coffee with that, or was it cake? Anyhow, I made you something to, uh…slow down your he….I mean the side effects. Yes, have some coffee and cake. Hey, and while your at it, why don’t you have some coffee cake as well! Oh, I, I have to make some don’t I? I’d better get cooking, Darlin’. I want you to stay right there, okay?” Before Derrick had a chance to answer, Mrs. Paulsor said, “Great. Some coffee, cake, and some coffee cake coming right up, Sweetie.” Derrick watched his grandmother disappear into the kitchen, with a slight limp.

“Now, what will kill the boy?” wondered Mrs. Paulsor to herself as she looked in her cupboard of ingredients. “Ah, some of this,” Mrs. Paulsor poured some pepper into a pan. “Oh, and this…hey, maybe some of this too-” suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Mrs. Paulsor’s foot. (The one she had stepped on the broken glass with) “Ouch!”

Derrick layed on the couch, waiting for his grandma to return. What cake was she talking about, she had never made him a cake. Did she even know how to cook? Maybe he should go into the kitchen and help her.

“Dead, la la la la la, dead, la la la la, dead…..” Mrs. Paulsor was humming as Derrick walked in to the kitchen. He saw everything she had, he heard the words of her song. He was horrified.

“Grandma?” asked Derrick, barely above a whisper. Mrs. Paulsor jumped almost three feet in the air. Grandma. He had called her Grandma. He had never done that before. At that moment, Mrs. Paulsor, Marian, felt extreme guilt for what she had been trying to do. Derrick asked, “Grandma? Are you trying to kill me?”

“No, well….yes, but no, not anymore, I love you Derrick. I would never want to hurt you…..anymore. No, I don’t want to kill you.” Marian hugged her grandson. “I’m sorry, Derrick. Really, I am, truly, Darlin’”

“Wow, Grandma, you must really love me!” said Derrick, happily.

Marian looked down at her bloody foot, “I would walk on broken glass for you, Darlin’.”


Fruity Shampoo

September 22nd, 2006

Hello, wonderful people! My name is Sara Rotelli. I am 15 years old, and I have brown hair, blue eyes, and just a sprinkle of freckles. I go to Aberntknoll High School in Lansing, Michigan. E-mail me stuff at rotellicutie@ cupcake . com, kay?

That’s what was written on my myspace. I was safe though, you know, because it wasn’t like I put my address. People usually put stuff like that on their myspaces, you know? You want to know the difference between everybody else’s and my myspace? All the rest of the people in the world put “facts” about themselves that aren’t true. Well, I must have missed the memo, because all of my “facts” weren’t just little untrue “facts,” they were true, 100%, completely me, facts. I mean, actual facts. Not one lie, not even a slight bending of the truth (the other name for lie). No, nothing. Just facts.

You are probably thinking, “Well, didn’t she learn about all the horrible stuff that can happen if you put real facts?” Yes, I did. But I thought that couldn’t ever happen to me. And besides, everyone else was doing it, and they weren’t dead. Like I said before, I must have missed the, “put fake stuff on the internet” memo. Because that’s exactly the opposite of what I did.

Anyway, on with my story about my life on myspace:

Everyone thinks, “It could never happen to me,” right? Right. And most people are right. But some people, like me, are wrong. I was in the study downstairs, sending a ton of comments to this one guy. I knew him. Well, not in person, but I knew him. His name was Dave Bertstein. He was 17, he had blonde hair, brown eyes, and was 5′8″….or so he said. I beleived him, you know, ’cause he was my friend. So, I was commenting things like, “What’s up,” you know, the kind of stuff you type on comments. Dave and I liked to send each other weird questions, like, what kind of toothpaste do you use, and what kind of shoes are you wearing. Completely harmless stuff.

Comments sent to Dave from me January 21, 2005:

What’s up?

What kind of shampoo do you use?

Hey, are you there?

After commenting Dave for a while, I figured he wasn’t there. Well, what else is there to do on the internet? So I turned off the computer, and went in to my living room. I made my way over to our old couch, and slumped in to the filthy cushions. Just as I was getting comfy, my dog, Jenny, whines to get out. I stood up, walked slowly over to the back door, and slid it open. Jenny is one of those dogs who wants to come in about two seconds after you let her out, so I decided to leave the back door open. (My first major mistake of the night.) I wandered in to the kitchen, and grabbed a bag of potato chips, then I walked back over to the couch to watch some tv. After about two hours of tv, I decided it was boring, and I went back in to the study.

As the computer turned on, I thought about how stuffy the house was. I pushed open all the windows, and opened the front door. I sat down at the computer and logged in to myspace. Dave was online! I wrote him some comments, he wrote back:

Hey, do you want to call each other, so we can talk?

Of course, I type yes. (My second major mistake of the night.)

Comments sent to me from Dave January 21,2005

I type back, “253-320-5443″(My third MAJOR mistake of the night.) Dave says he’ll call me in about ten minutes. I wait for ten minutes, and I can get are some messages from Dave. Finally, I decide to call him, and ask whats wrong. It’s then that I realize I don’t have his number. Okay, so maybe he’d call me. Someone was probably just using the phone right now, nothing to worry about. After about an hour of Dave not calling, I started to say good bye, but somehow, he kept me online. Dave typed to me:

My parents are out at dinner. They take FOREVER!!!

I typed back:

Yeah, my parents are at some wedding. They won’t be back until tomorrow morning. (My fourth major mistake of the night.)

Dave started talking about random stuff, his cat, his playstation, pretty much everything. Then he started in on the dumb questions.

What color is your shirt? Are you cold?

The cold comment reminded me of the front door. I walked over and shut and locked it. Then I closed all of the windows. I walked back to the computer. I had another comment that read:

Wow, what shampoo do you use?

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Your hair smells good, TURN AROUND!!!!!

I almost fainted. The back door! I left it wide open! Well, he wasn’t really behind me, was he? There was only one way to find out….I slowly turned around.

I couldn’t breathe. “Dave,” who turned out the be a 60-year-old man, had tied me up, and put duct tape over my nose and mouth. I tried to scream, the duct tape muffled the noise. I tried to take the duct tape off, but the rope on my hands wouldn’t allow me to reach my mouth. There was a sudden bump. I thought I had just turned over, but how should I know, I couldn’t see anything. But, why couldn’t I see anything? I mean, there didn’t seem to be anything on my head or eyes. Was I blind? Was it just dark? Anyway, I had just felt like I had been tipped over. But, what ever had happend, it didn’t matter, I was going to die here anyway.

I felt a rush of heat on my left side. It was getting hotter and hotter. Out side I could hear sirens. Then it hit me. Well, nothing literally hit me, because you see, I was locked in the trunk of a car, but I thought, the car was probably on fire! I started kicking the sides of the trunk, trying to pop it loose, but I wasn’t strong enough. I decided to give it one more whack, and just before my feet touched the door, the top sprung open and I saw a firefighter. He tore the duct tape off of my nose and mouth, and I could see again. Apparently it was just pitch black in the trunk of that car.

I woke up with a bunch of needles and tubes and other hospital stuff all over me. My mom told me that they had been called down to the hospital, and one of the police officers had told her the entire story about Dave. She told me that he was put in to prison. What I didn’t understand, was how he found out where I lived. All I gave him was my phone number. Oh, well. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters to me is that I’m happy, healthy, alive, and, well, grounded for being so stupid on the internet, but other than that, my life is great!



Building Comment

September 19th, 2006

I read a poem about 9/11 that was really good. I liked how the person compared the towers with people. It made it seem more like something that could actually happen. The twin towers did actually fall but no body was really expecting it, but people wouldn’t be as surprised if someone said, two twins died today. They would be sad, but they wouldn’t be as surprised.

rockinwithacdc12


Stranded in the Desert with Nothing but My Toothpaste

September 12th, 2006

If you were stranded in the desert, with only one thing, what would it be? Most people would say an airplane, or a mirror, or a large sign that says, “S.O.S.!!! Help Me! Pretty Please Won’t You Help Me?” Or someone might say I’d bring my play station, and then instantly realize that THERE’S NO WHERE TO PLUG IT IN!!! So I would bring toothpaste to the desert. You’re probably wondering WHY would I bring toothpaste to the desert? Especially if I can only bring one thing? Well, think about it. You can eat toothpaste. (In small quantities) It will also keep your mouth minty fresh, or orangy fresh or what ever the flavor of your toothpaste is. It can also be used as a shampoo and body wash so you don’t stink. And above everything else, you can use the toothpaste to make a huge sign that says, “S.O.S.!!! Help Me! Pretty Please Won’t You Help Me?” That is the reason that I would personally bring toothpaste to the desert. Or maybe I would bring an umbrella……


Cold, Hard, Cement of N.Y.C.

September 11th, 2006

It was 7:15am, Tuesday, September 11, 2001, Lilly Montcow was extremely sick. Lilly coughed. Her head hurt. It had been years since she had gotten sick like this. Her mom was visiting her aunt in Florida, and her dad had to go to work in ten minutes.

“Lilly, you can’t stay home, you might get Mammie sick,” said Mr. Montcow.

“But Dad! Emily will keep Grandma away from me! Please. I don’t want to go to your work, it smells weird,” Lilly protested.

“Lilly Rene Montcow, you are coming with Daddy to work, and that is final.”

“Hmph!” Lilly crossed her arms across her chest, and coughed. Then she stomped out of the room, sneezing all the way out.

As Lilly stepped in to the World Trade Center, she immediately smelled liver and onions. Bleck. Who likes liver? Lilly had no idea, but it was stinking up the whole building. Mr. Montcow, and Lilly stood in the elevator for what seemed like an hour with Lilly sneezing every two seconds, and Mr. Montcow dodging her, trying not to get sick. Mr. Montcow’s office was on the 100th floor, which Lilly thought was completely stupid. Who puts somebody’s office 100 floors off of the ground? At least they didn’t have to take the stairs. Finally, they were there. All the way at the top of the building…almost.

“Lay down here, Lilly,” Mr. Montcow pointed to a spot on the floor.

“Gee, thanks, Dad,” said Lilly, putting her head on the cold, hard carpet.

“No!” screamed Lilly’s dad. “Wait ’till I put down the plastic! I can’t risk getting sick Lilly, this is my job! Daddy has to pay for the house!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t mind me, I’m just the half-dead person here!” shouted Lilly sarcastically.

“You’ll be fine, Lilly,” said her father firmly as he rolled a second layer of plastic wrap on to the carpet. When he finished, he said, “Now Lilly, you stay here, and rest quietly. I have important work to do.”

“Dad, I’m fourteen now, you don’t need to treat me like a baby, okay?” replied Lilly, starting to get mad.

“If you would act your age, maybe I wouldn’t have to treat you like a child!” Mr. Montcow shouted back at her.

“I do act my age, you just never let me-”

“Lilly Rene!” Mr. Montcow cut Lilly off.

“Sorry,” said Lilly through her whitish, yellowish, teeth.

It had been an hour. The time was now 8:55. Lilly was extremely bored. She tried to sleep, but she was too uncomfortable. She wanted to watch TV, but her dad wouldn’t let her. The office had absolutely nothing to eat, and Lilly really wanted some chicken soup. Five minutes had gone by. It was now 9:00. BOOM! All the windows in the office shattered in to thousands of tiny pieces. What was that?

“Dad? What just happened?”asked Lilly.

“I don’t know, it was probably nothing to worry about. Just settle down and be quiet. Daddy’s trying to work,” replied Mr. Moscow. Lilly wanted to scream. When would he understand that she wasn’t four years old!!! Then came a large, scratchy noise.

A loud voice came on the speaker above them, “Attention, workers. A plane just crashed in to the other tower here, at the World Trade Center. Please proceed with your daily work as you normally would. If anything more happens, we will notify you. Thank you, and have a nice day.” Lilly’s heart started to pound. She didn’t know what to think. Was it an accident? It had to be. Lilly decided to try and sleep to keep her mind off of the crash.

The bunny sniffed the bright yellow flower, as the butterfly landed on it’s ear. Everything was so peaceful and quiet. What a beautiful d- BOOM!!! Lilly woke up with a jolt. The lady from the speaker came back on with a screech. “A second plane has just hit this tower. Please, everybody just be calm, fire fighters are on their way, please go back to your normal activities. Thank you, and have a wonderful day.”

“Dad! Did you hear that? We have to get out!” Lilly started screaming hysterically.

“Lilly, they told everybody to be calm, it’ll be okay,” replied her father.
“Of course that’s what they’re gonna say! They’re not gonna say, yeah, a plane crashed, by the way, you’re gonna die!” screamed Lilly at her father. “Where did the plane crash, anyway?” Lilly ran over to the window, and as she did, her shirt brushed against Mr. Montcow’s jacket. Mr. Montcow shrieked. “Sorry, Dad.” Lilly stuck her head out of the pointy-edged window, but couldn’t see anything, so she leaned out farther, until she was almost completely out of the window. Lilly looked up, but only saw the sky. She looked straight down and saw a whole lot of smoke and something else. Lilly squinted, the smoke was starting to sting her eyes. She couldn’t see very well, but she could barely make out something. Lilly almost started breathing. What she saw was the tail end of an airplane. The plane had crashed below the floor she was on. How were they going to get out? Would one of those ladders on top of the firetruck reach. Probably not, she was more than 800 feet in the air. They only had two choices. They could wait, and see if the fire trucks could put out the fire, or they could jump out the window. Either way they were risking their lives. “Daddy-” started Lilly.

“Just a minute Lil-” There was a loud crash, not like the first ones though. Lilly looked back out the window. The other tower had collapsed. The voice came on the speaker one more time.

“Attention! The first tower has collapsed. Please form an orderly line, and proceed down the stairs carefully. Thank you so, oh whatever.” The lady started screaming before she finished her sentence.

“Daddy! What are we going to do? This building could collapse any minute, and we’re going to be stuck! Daddy! We’re going to die! Daddy!! Help!! Please! Call somebody!” Lilly leaned out the window, and looked up, a single brick fell and crumbled once it hit the hard ground. Suddenly, three more bricks fell, then ten, then thirty. The building was collapsing! Lilly leaned farther out the window. She was trying to find some way out. If she could just see, a little farther. Lilly coughed…and then slipped. Lilly screamed as loud as she could. She fell out the window! Mr. Montcow ran to the window and looked down. There was his daughter. Right there. And over there….and over there. He started to cry. Maybe he should have been a little nicer. Now she was dead. Mr. Zachary Montcow sat down in his rollie chair, and waited for the building to collapse.

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Why Did the Chicken REALLY Cross the Road?

September 1st, 2006

Everyone thinks the chicken crosses the road to get to the other side. But why would a chicken need to get to the other side of a road? I mean, come on. A chicken would be just fine living his entire life on one side of the road, unless of course he needed something on the other side, that he would absolutely need to stay alive. Then he would need to cross the road. So, many people have wondered about the REAL reason this chicken crossed the road. The story about George P. Chicken and his son:

One day, George P. Chicken was walking with his son, Georgie Q. Chicken. Georgie wasn’t very smart. He liked to run out in front of large, scary, moving things, his dad called “trucks.” So anyway, Georgie was planning on running out in front of a particularly huge “truck.” His dad told him not to, and said that if he didn’t make it across this road, then, some trucker guy would be having a chicken pot pie for dinner that night. Since Georgie was not very smart, he didn’t know that chicken pot pie would include a chicken…him, so he ran in front of the truck. George P. Chicken screamed in terror! His son was going to be killed! As Georgie was just about to step on the curb of the other side of the road, He slipped, and fell. At that moment, a large pick-up truck was coming straight for him!!

“Noooo!” shouted George P. Chicken. He dove out in front of the truck and grabbed Georgie. Since they were much closer to this side of the street, they decided not to risk crossing again to get home. Georgie Q. Chicken promised to never run out in front of “cars” again. And that, of course, is the REAL reason the chicken crossed the road.