I know that I didn't choose the smartest person in the world to be friends with but she is pretty, tall, and good at sports. Kaila was excellent at being stupid, but she could be smart when she needed to be.
We were in the middle of a math test when she said, "SEVEN MINUS TWO EQUALS EIGHT RIGHT?''
Everybody laughed and made fun of her but I wasnt going to have that because she is like my best friend.
"Hey everybody stop laughing at her that is really mean and you dont understand her mind like I do!''
"Haha...
Poorly written!
So many misspellings!
Dis-jointed and non-sensical!
Your story did not make me cry or remember the way my mother's wrist smelled when she buttoned the top button of my new short sleeve plaid shirt from JC Penney's one spring day in 1978 when 5th grade was beginning to feel long in the tooth .
Also, run on sentences! More of them, please.
"hello Maggie." Said mother I couldn't believe that she was trying to talk to me now. After all the things she put me through, over a cup of tea! "Yes Mother?" I responded in a malicious tone. "Are you ready to apologize?" She said as though she was expecting it now. What was up with her and the stupid customs that she brought from England. "Yes Mother, I'm sorry about your stupid cup of tea and your stupid customs that make no sense here in AMERICA." I screamed at her. Seconds later i felt the white hot sting of a...
the man in the purple tuxedo had just bought a nice pair of boots. Walking home from the boot store he got attacked by an army of boot hungry hobos who wanted to eat their boots. The hobos were dressed in togas and had beards like frozen waterfalls down to their feet. The hobos combined their great beards to form a giant lasso and lassoed the pair of fancy boots away from the man in the purple tuxedo. The hobos ran away with the boots planning to dine on them later that evening. The man in the purple tuxedo...
Excerpt from personal diary, Saturday, Sept. 23, 2010:
Experiments designed to give self artificial sexual fetish involving lamps have thus far resulted in failure. First attempted to insert lamp into arbitrary orifice; however this failed due to how cumbersome the lamp in question was. Perhaps there is a non-penetrative alternative?
Excerpt from personal diary, Saturday, Sept. 24, 2010:
Attempted masturbation while entertaining thoughts of the lamp. So far unable to sexualize the object itself, and thus unable to complete experiment. Will try again with different parameters tomorrow.
Excerpt from personal diary, Saturday, Sept. 25, 2010:
The lamp wouldn't turn on....
Until now she'd never thought of herself as pretty. But now, in the mirror, the morning light slanted in underneath the almost closed blinds, she did.
He lay, still asleep, his hair tussled, blankets twisted around his midsection, one arm under the pillows, another across his eyes.
She walked softly from the mirror, and stood over him. Her thin fingers reached out and caressed his cheek.
He groaned and turned on to his back.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror once more. She felt like Aphrodite, or Helen of Troy. She bent down and pulled something from under...
Portraits lined the hallway. No matter where you stood, it seemed like the eyes were following you, staring at you in disdain. Freddy didn't care for the effect, so he hurried his way through the hall to the sitting room.
A large statue stood in the center of the room. The white marble figure resembled a famous historical figure, but Freddy couldn't quite place just which one--perhaps Ben Franklin. Ben Franklin 1.0, to be exact. Ben Franklin 1.2 was currently going through some new, more rigorous testing because Baron Von Bonn's steambot army made short work of the original. Luckily,...
"You'll never say it, will you?"
"Say..what?"
"What do you think?" She is exasperated, hands on her hips, eyes looking...sore, maybe.
I can never tell.
I should be able to, by now.
"That? Those words?"
She makes a face, and it's like a bridge collapsing. "Those words. You make it sound like they're...they're... like they're something bad."
I can't even think them, let alone say them. I mean, I do, of course I do, but... No.
"They aren't." I attempt. "And...you already know..."
"Do I?" She's staring now. "I did. I did know, but now...I'm not so certain. I...I just...
I stood in a Bollywood-style costume, obediently serving drinks to the guests at the Thomas' party tonight. It was a big one; "everyone who's anyone is here," in the words of Mrs. Thomas.
"A champagne, please," a man probably two years older than I said quietly. I looked up and saw piercing blue eyes and defined cheekbones - this guy was fine. Not like it'd ever matter, the Thomas' would never let their best teen servant date, but he was hot.
"Coming right up," I mumbled, seeming to have lost my confidence. I poured too much and spilled the extremely...
Private Morlane. Rooster. Let the regiment sleep. Gun. Trigger. Regiment sleeps.