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 Posted: Thu Mar 27, 2008 3:19 pm
It's 7:20 in the morning and I'm facing my midlife crisis.
Okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit. It's not my midlife crisis (oh crap, I'm only going to live to 24!?), but it's big. To me. I CAN'T FIND MY OTHER SHOE.
My other shoe? I think that's bad? Yeah, I do. My bus for school leaves in 10 minutes, and I've been hunting for my dang sneaker for about half an hour (more exaggeration. But it starts to feel that long when you still can't find your left shoe after five minutes of frantic searching). I've ripped apart my whole room, and it's still no where to be seen. A terrible thought occurs to me; what if my shoes is totally gone? What if I miss my bus, having searched in vain for my lost footwear? What if it turns out my shoe was shredded by the air conditioner last night (how, I don't know, but would MTV lie to me?)?! Think, girl, think. Use that logic teacher tell you you have. I found my one shoe next to my bed, trying to hide under the ancient boxes of stuff from grades past my mother won't let me throw away. Shouldn't the other shoe be there, too? I whip around to check my bed, which is as un-shoe wielding as it was four seconds ago when I checked it. I am now completely freaking out. I can't find my shoe! I can't find my shoe! My foot's naked! It's a streaker! Nooooo!
Amazingly, through all this drama, a part of me has stayed sane. Totally sane. And it's taking control of my brain, saying things like, "Breathe, Ash, breathe. In... and out. One more time. In... out... There you go. Don't you feel better?" No! No I do NOT feel better! Where is my shoe? WHERE is my other sneaker? WHERE!? The calm part of me is smug, annoyingly so. "Did you check downstairs, next to the couch?" No, no I did not. Why would I? That's stupid. Why would I check there? But I'm already out of my room and going down the steps, all the while saying that my shoe is OBviously not going to be in the living room. Why would it be there? The living room isn't shoe related. It's living related. Actually, it's sitting related. And television related. And not actually very living related. I'm still rattling on in my head like this when I see it. My shoe! Thank everything! My foot is no longer naked! I reunite the long lost companions of the feet, leaning down to tug the back into place. When I stand up, I see the clock.
It's 7:30.
Oh crap.
---
That's only the beginning. I'll post more later... (^_^)
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Posted: Thu Mar 27, 2008 6:33 pm
Haha, youd be a good comedian writer. Just fix some grammer and maybe split it into a few more paragraphs to make it easier to read and you should be fine. if you want i'll go through and put in some corrections, but i dont want to seem annoying so its up to you biggrin
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2008 6:52 pm
PsychoticMusicLover Haha, youd be a good comedian writer. Just fix some grammer and maybe split it into a few more paragraphs to make it easier to read and you should be fine. if you want i'll go through and put in some corrections, but i dont want to seem annoying so its up to you biggrin Sqwee~ Sure, correct all you'd like. (^_^) I don't mind. I always want my work to be better.
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Posted: Mon Apr 07, 2008 5:06 pm
here are my suggestions:
It's 7:20 in the morning and I'm facing my midlife crisis.
Okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit. It's not my midlife crisis (oh crap, I'm only going to live to 24!?), but it's big, to me. I CAN'T FIND MY OTHER SHOE.
My other shoe? I think that's bad? Yeah, I do. My bus for school leaves in 10 minutes, and I've been hunting for my dang sneaker for about half an hour (more exaggeration, but it starts to feel that long when you still can't find your left shoe after five minutes of frantic searching). I've ripped apart my whole room, and it's still no where to be seen. A terrible thought occurs to me; what if my shoes is totally gone? What if I miss my bus, having searched in vain for my lost footwear? What if it turns out my shoe was shredded by the air conditioner last night (how, I don't know, but would MTV lie to me?)?!
Think, girl, think. Use that logic teacher tell you you have.
I found my one shoe next to my bed, trying to hide under the ancient boxes of stuff from grades past my mother won't let me throw away. Shouldn't the other shoe be there, too? I whip around to check my bed, which is as un-shoe wielding as it was four seconds ago when I checked it. I am now completely freaking out.
I can't find my shoe! I can't find my shoe! My foot's naked! It's a streaker! Nooooo!
Amazingly, through all this drama, a part of me has stayed sane, totally sane. And it's taking control of my brain, saying things like, "Breathe, Ash, breathe. In... and out. One more time. In... out... There you go. Don't you feel better?"
No! No I do NOT feel better! Where is my shoe? WHERE is my other sneaker? WHERE!?
The calm part of me is smug, annoyingly so. "Did you check downstairs, next to the couch?"
No, no I did not. Why would I? That's stupid. Why would I check there?
But I'm already out of my room and going down the steps, all the while saying that my shoe is obviously not going to be in the living room. Why would it be there? The living room isn't shoe related. It's living related. Actually, it's sitting related, and television related; not actually very living related. I'm still rattling on in my head like this when I see it.
My shoe! Thank everything! My foot is no longer naked!
I reunite the long lost companions of the feet, leaning down to tug the back into place. When I stand up, I see the clock.
It's 7:30.
Oh crap.
I put what I thought were thoughts running through your head in italics and seperated things into more paragraphs just to make things much easier to read. Your grammar is pretty good but i suggest instead of puting so many "It's furry. And big. And black." combine all the sentences by using various conjunctions or commas and semi-colons. These are just suggestions to make it easier to read but besides that everything is perfect mrgreen
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2008 2:36 pm
Okay! (^_^) Thanks very much. The italics will help a lot, as thought happen often in this story. ninja
I have more of this story... want me to post that, too?
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Posted: Wed Apr 09, 2008 1:53 pm
i really enjoy reading this story... its quite entertaining so sure why not xd
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Posted: Wed Apr 09, 2008 2:53 pm
biggrin
It's a little less humorous as it goes on, but... /shrugs
"Ash, where have you been? You weren't on the bus. What happened?" This is what I'm greeted by when I walk through the doors of Lenchester Middle School. No, Good morning Ash. How is everything? This is Sparky I'm dealing with, so I guess I should expect this.
"I couldn't find my shoe," I say. I do not mention how I panicked because of my naked foot, losing precious time and having to call my dad at work to drive me to school. I do not mention having almost missed breakfast, and being saved from premature starvation by egg and cheese biscuits. I just say, "My shoe is a master ninja. It found a clever way to hide next to my couch, then leapt out a me when I least expected it, locking us in mortal combat. Luckily, I was saved by–"
"Alright, Ash. I get it. Now hurry up and get to your locker. I refuse to be late to first period." She takes my arm and half drags me across the floor, my shoes leaving scuff marks across the linoleum.
Sparky says 'locker'. You think, four-foot-high masses of steal, lining the walls from one wing to the other, interrupted only by the occasional thin wood door or bathroom. Cue hockey goal noise. EEEEEEEEEEEGH. Sparky says 'locker'. She means, islands of columns of two foot high, one foot deep, faux metal boxes, each with a matching ying/yang shaped scar from swinging locks wearing away the slate-grey paint, exposing the ancient, rusting evilness that lies beneath. These minute excuses for storage space come equipped with number tags maiming the top of the lockers, right above the slits gouged into each door, which are barely wide enough to permit the thinest of notes into the foreboding, unorganizable innards of the box. (excuse my drama. Incase you couldn't tell, I dislike my locker) I find mine, the dreaded, bipolar number 382, which unfortunately for me is a bottom locker. Not only is my locker devil spawn, but I am in constant peril, hounded by falling books and the wickedly sharp edges of doors that constantly come at your scalp without warning. I kneel down next to my locker I have christened 'Caviar' (chicken eggs are for eating and hatching chicks. Fish eggs are for being allergic to). I glare at it and say, "Now listen up–ow, that was my head– Caviar. I want none of your sass today. I want to open you with out having to be so exact I require a microscope. I don't want to have to resort to kicking you in frustration today. I want a good–sorry, I didn't see you there– clean day. Now..!" I viciously turn the dial, stopping at ten, fourteen and thirty-three. I pull on the lock. Caviar grumbles, and it pops open. I can't believe it. It actually listened. I shove my backbag (a sorry, bookbag/backpack hybrid my mother bought me during a back-to-school sale in fifth grade) inside a slam the door shut before the locker has time to think and close itself on me. I grab my bind from beside me and wind my way through the swirling mob to find Sparky. How did she disappear like this? It's one of her talents, I guess.
"Hey, Annabelle, what's up?"
"Annabelle, did you finish the math homework? Can I borrow it? I totally forgot."
"Annabelle, where's Kevin? I have to talk to him about the game tomorrow." I stop at this. I turn to the captain (the person I'm talking to. Yeah, we have a captain for basketball. You mean you don't?) and frown. "What game?" I have to say, I'm surprised. Kricket never mentioned a basketball game tomorrow. The captain looks at me like I've sprouted antlers and says, "The one tomorrow, against Wincord. You mean you didn't know?" He finishes his sentence, implying I must be blind because I haven't noticed the posters littering the walls of the entire school. Actually, I haven't seen one. At this point I'm starting to suspect alien involvement, but the captain just walks away, shaking his head and muttering about non-observant people. I scowl after him and dive into the crowd. Kricket is in trouble with me. Oh yeah, lots of trouble.
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Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2008 4:30 pm
good... very good. just one thing id fix and that is make I kneel.... be that start to a new paragraph.
like this:
Not only is my locker devil spawn, but I am in constant peril, hounded by falling books and the wickedly sharp edges of doors that constantly come at your scalp without warning.
I kneel down next to my locker I have christened 'Caviar' (chicken eggs are for eating and hatching chicks. Fish eggs are for being allergic to).
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Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2008 9:55 pm
that's beautiful =3
if you wrote a book i would buy it >w<
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Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 6:04 pm
PsychoticMusicLover good... very good. just one thing id fix and that is make I kneel.... be that start to a new paragraph. like this: Not only is my locker devil spawn, but I am in constant peril, hounded by falling books and the wickedly sharp edges of doors that constantly come at your scalp without warning. I kneel down next to my locker I have christened 'Caviar' (chicken eggs are for eating and hatching chicks. Fish eggs are for being allergic to). M'kay! Thank you. You're extremely helpful (^_^) lovely little panda that's beautiful =3
if you wrote a book i would buy it >w< Haha, thank you. 4laugh I think AM going to write a book. Many books. And do manga and comics and stuff. My life has many plans. 3nodding
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Posted: Fri Apr 18, 2008 5:41 pm
Noii PsychoticMusicLover good... very good. just one thing id fix and that is make I kneel.... be that start to a new paragraph. like this: Not only is my locker devil spawn, but I am in constant peril, hounded by falling books and the wickedly sharp edges of doors that constantly come at your scalp without warning. I kneel down next to my locker I have christened 'Caviar' (chicken eggs are for eating and hatching chicks. Fish eggs are for being allergic to). M'kay! Thank you. You're extremely helpful (^_^) lovely little panda that's beautiful =3
if you wrote a book i would buy it >w< Haha, thank you. 4laugh I think AM going to write a book. Many books. And do manga and comics and stuff. My life has many plans. 3nodding awesome!!! im sure it will do really well!! wink
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Posted: Mon Apr 21, 2008 4:10 pm
(^_^) Next bit all ready to go~
I burst through the back door and hurry down the covered path, past the gym and the band hall, my binder banging against my knees and seriously inhibiting my progress. If I get to the portable late, I'm going to get eaten by my teacher. Mrs. Carune scares me as it is, with her jet black hair she always has smoothed so flat she must use an iron and her hawkish eyes that seem to catch you doing something wrong everytime. I shudder and quicken my already fast pace.
I swing myself onto the steps outside the portable and rush into the room, Mrs. Carune glaring at me suspiciously (most people would be bothered by this, but when you've had her for a full semester already, you're used to this). Sparky is already in her seat, as usual, but now looking at her closer, I see that she's done her curly, milk-chocolate hair up in a bun, and she's wearing her glasses. This is worrying. I go over warily, know that at moment she'll–
"Ash! Tuck in your shirt. As a matter of fact, put on a clean shirt, that one has a stain on it. A red one, as it is. On your white shirt, too! I can't believe you. And your hair! Do you know the meaning of the word 'comb'? I don't suppose– oh, Kricket! Come here right now! You two ragamuffins. I don't know how you can stand to have your hair like that. Kricket, tie your shoes. You're going to trip and splatter your nose all over your face. Ash, tell him about how noses break. I'm sure you know a lot about this– oh, no, I'll tell him, you'd trip over your tongue and tell dear Kricket something wrong." This is worse than I thought. She doesn't go as far as 'dear' unless something is really bothering her.
Sparky adjusts her sharp, thin glasses and launches into a long description of what happens when you break your nose, and the surgical process needed to fix it once it's all over your face, how much it costs on average if you go to a good surgeon, but it'll cost this much less if you go to her parents and get yourself repaired.
All this time, Kricket has been standing, horrified, listening to Sparky's speech with a confused expression on his face, clearly wishing she would leave him alone. Then Mrs. Carune closes the door and Sparky shuts up like a good student. I sit diagonally from her, next to Kricket. Out of the corner of my eye I see her lining her binder up with the edge of her desk in an obsessive manner; put it on the table top and adjusting it, then coming back after a few seconds and moving it minutely, then putting it back, the moving it again, over and over. After a few minutes of this, I reach over and take her binder away.
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Posted: Sat May 03, 2008 5:19 am
very good again.
however, i'd clear up some of the speech if i were you. it's kind of hard to follow.
keep going though biggrin
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 8:17 am
that was really good and funny. lol
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