2010 Lit Mag

2
“You always find things you didn’t
know you were going to say, and that is
the adventure of writing.”
- John Updike
3
4
A Chapter in Life
By Kindt Brady
We made our way over to the new campus
Leaving our lower schools behind
Moving up the academic ladder
To become lonesome sixth graders
And our physical and emotional feelings changed
As we adjusted to the homework load
We made new friends, all the way to the end
But it all ends today, today we move on
We’re now eighth graders—it’s all coming to a close
Once mere sixth graders and now the top dogs
Our ups and downs have made us stronger
But it all ends today—today we move on.
5
6
7
8
Bundle of Joy Times Two
By Rachel Honig
As my white-haired doctor put a cold gel and futuristic mechanism on my pale, freckled,
basketball-shaped belly, all I could hope for was that the baby was healthy. Thatʼs all I
wanted. He soon told me that I would be expecting twins in the summer. I was overjoyed, until I thought of my husband.
I left the hospital only being able to think about what Ben would say when I delivered
the news. Walking home through the well lit, overpopulated streets of Manhattan gave me
some time to think about how I would tell him that we were having twins.
As I creaked open the maple colored wood door, I could see my hand quivering. I
quickly went into the kitchen to have a scoop of the Ben and Jerryʼs Phish Food ice cream that
I had been craving all day. After I was fully satisfied, it was time to share the news. “Hello?” I
called through our three bedroom apartment.
“Honey, Iʼm in the office. How was the sonogram?”
“Well...,” I said with a tremble in my voice as I walked toward the office.
“Is everything okay?! Is the baby healthy? Did they tell you the gender?” he
asked.
“The babies are perfect! They are healthy and Dr. Gregory says that he can tell us the
gender if we would like, but I thought I would wait for him to tell us when we were together at
an appointment.” Did he get the message when I said babies? I was standing in the doorframe. Ben paused for a second and turned to look at me.
“Monica, for a moment I thought that you said babies, as in two, as in twins!”
“I did say babies.”
Smooth Dude
By Joseph Schooling
At Hooters the waitresses were serving their customers and music was playing in the
background. Suddenly, the door opened. A man in his middle twenties with golden blond hair
radiating in the sunlight, hard-rock abs coming out of his tight shirt, Levis jeans hanging low
on his hips, and boots clicking with every step walked into the restaurant. Everyone noticed.
The ladies stared, and the men grew envious as all the ladies approached this fine-looking
man. His name was Brad Coot.
The ladies had never seen such a handsome man in their lives. All the ladies were attracted to him as if he’d put a spell on them, making them feel as if they were in a dream.
This was no dream; it was 100% real.
Brad approached one of the waitresses. Her face turned bright red and her heart rate
shot through the roof. “What’s up, Sugar? Wanna go out to a movie with me?” Her heart burst
and she shouted at the top of her voice: “YES I do!” The other girls stared with envious eyes.
But suddenly, a man wearing a ski mask stormed in. He held two pistols in his hands. “Alright
y’all, give me all yur money and I won’t harm no one!” he shouted.
Brad jumped into action and used his martial arts skills to take down the criminal. He
acted so fast, the burglar couldn’t react.
Once again, Brad Coot, the handsome, fashionable man, had saved the day.
9
Frozen Play
By Graham Nichols
Jeremy Stan’s mom
shivered standing on the cold
metal bleachers as Jeremy
trotted into the huddle. Jeremy, a senior running back at
Shiverston High, and yet to
display any sign of explosiveness, stepped into position
for the last few plays of the
championship game.
The young man’s
mother cheered Jeremy on.
A stiff breeze crept
throughout Shiverton’s small
town field. Twenty-two players’ necks cringed.
With twenty seconds
left in the game, Jeremy
caught the brown spheroid
and jolted down Shiverston’s
slippery sideline, then out of
bounds. Racing to the line of
scrimmage, the team attempted another pass play to
win the game.
“Five, four, three,”
chanted the few fans attending the game.
Jeremy caught and
crammed the ball between
his arms as he crossed the
ten yard line. Still in bounds,
Jeremy paused.
A strong wind blew,
and Jeremy’s breath puffed
into the air like hot steam rising from a cup of coffee.
The ATM Machine
By Emily Griffin
A high-tech robot with a metal pole as a neck
Sits near my hip and waits to cash my check.
I feed him big deposits, and then, one after another,
He spits back wads of green paper like it wasn’t a bother.
Ocean Waves
By Morgan Ungrady
Crash and crash and roll down the shore
Chase the children with your white foam
You are cold then warm and rough then calm
Crash and crash on the sandy beach all night long
10
Jane’s Gift
By Alexis Rhodes
Walking on the streets of New York City with the frigid wind rushing through her hair,
the tiny snowflakes falling on her eye lashes, and the squishy feeling of her boots beneath
her frozen feet, was the most uncomfortable she had been since the winter had officially begun.
“Where’s the sun?” This question ran through Jane’s mind as she walked along the
congested streets of Manhattan. When turning the corner on to Fifth Avenue, it was there,
Tiffany & Co. She walked by Tiffany’s every day after work and always told herself that
when she had accumulated enough money she would buy the heart pendant in the window,
a gift for her mother.
It was two days before Christmas. The big Christmas tree was up in Rockefeller Center, lights and tinsel were covering every street sign and lamp post in sight, and it was finally the day Jane was going to buy the heart pendant. She was filled with joy as she sauntered down the busy streets, but when reaching the store window there was a sign: Out to
lunch. Be back at 2:00. Unfortunately, Jane had to leave that afternoon at 1:30, to go to
Florida for a family Christmas. Sadness filled Jane’s heart as she trudged back down the
crowded Manhattan streets, empty handed.
All Bottled Up
By Rachel Honig
When Jen left me for Chad Jameson I told myself that I didn’t care. But when people
started talking about them as a couple, I started to miss us as a couple.
Jen and I had been dating for eleven long, romantic months, but last week she told
me she would rather just be friends because she heard about what happened at Karaʼs party
last Friday. Nothing really happened. Meredith kissed me; itʼs not like I could back away.
Now Jen is dating Chad. Did I mention he is captain of the varsity baseball team? Iʼm on the
bowling team.
I could not reveal that I was extremely jealous or that my heart throbbed every time
he wrapped his buff arm around her petite figure. It just wasnʼt fair! She was all mine for
almost a whole year and then all of a sudden I was chopped out of her life like the white fat
cut off of a porterhouse, just because I made one mistake.
Not only am I hopelessly in love with a girl who doesn’t even want to see my face, I’m
not allowed to show my emotions about it. Guys can’t cry. It’s just a rule of manhood. If I
cried in front of anyone, my life would be over! From then on the highlight of my day would
be eating my tuna fish sandwich in the boys’ bathroom. For the rest of my high school life I
would be known as Sobbing Bobby, the loser on the bowling team.
Why are girls allowed to let their feelings soar? Why do guys have to act all macho?
Uh oh... Here comes a tear. I can feel the droplet building up in my tear duct about to trickle
down my freckled face. Hold it in Bobby, hold it in! Crap.
11
When the Crowd Went Silent
By Margaret Odom-Tomchin
The roar of the crowd buzzed in my irritated ear. We were tied up in the soccer
championship and, of course, I had to shoot a penalty kick to win the game.
My nervous teammates’ eyes were on me, and my coach was biting his shaking,
pale hand as I glanced at the worried goalie protecting the net and caught a glimpse of the
striped-shirted referee, arms crossed, waiting impatiently for me to take the shot. “C’mon!
You can do it!” my coach yelled insanely loud at me.
Taking one more glimpse at the goal, I planted the rounded soccer ball by my
worn-out soccer cleats. Backing up slowly, I said a silent, optimistic prayer to myself, exhaled, then kicked the ball.
Like an eagle soaring in the sky, the ball shot through the crisp, evening air. I
closed my eyes hoping for the best. Then I heard a horrible, horrible silence. Opening my
concerned eyes, I saw the worst thing imaginable: that stupid soccer ball had missed the net!
I kicked the dying grass with frustration and fell to my shaking knees.
Cheering, the opposing team leaped into the air and screamed with pure delight.
It was over. I had lost the game. With tears streaming down my face, I walked to the cold
aluminum bench defeated. “Wait to go, loser,” the most obnoxious, insensitive girl on my
soccer team shouted at me. Coach looked too upset to say anything at all. So much for my
soccer career. Digging my muddy cleat into the crusty earth, I let tears roll down my face,
still remembering when the crowd went silent.
Blank
By May Lee
As I sit here staring at the screen
I try, I think, I fret
But no good words come to my head
My progress is as slow as a snail in the snow
I attempt to plow
As I wrinkle my brow
Still the cursor on the screen goes blink, blink, blink
As my mind remains blank, blank, blank
I hate this homework day
I’m so bad at poems
This is not my forte
But worst of all
When I’m done
There will be still more poems yet to come
12
Grabbing Hold of Adventure
Margaret Odom-Tomchin
Because I could not stop for Adventure
She eagerly stopped for me—
She took me by the Hand
And slyly grabbed my keys.
We rapidly drove—She wasted no time
And I, I kindly let go
The busy thoughts on my mind—
For Her amusement
Been Caught Stealing
By Sarah Griffin
David sighed as he lurked behind the tall
aisle of cd’s. People steal all the time, so why
couldn’t he? Why not? Would anyone really
care? He eyed the bright red cd that had been
released by his favorite band only last Saturday. He wanted it desperately, but he had already spent his allowance.
David sighed again, moved closer, and
picked up the album, glancing around the
store. No one was looking. He shoved the disk
under his sweatshirt, and walked swiftly toward
the exit of the department store. Was it obvious? David felt eyes on him and wondered if
people knew exactly what he was up to, despite the precautions he had taken. He walked
faster.
Almost there, and David was already
grinning. The album was as good as his. Only
20 more feet now; he couldn’t wait to get home
to listen to his favorite band’s newest work! Finally there, David stepped over the threshold
of the department store.
He grinned, finding himself unable to
contain his enthusiasm. He excitedly pulled the
cd out from under his sweatshirt, just as an
employee of the store grabbed his arm and demanded to know what he was doing!
13
We snorkeled in oceans—
Where fish darted Away
We biked the trails of waxing weeds
We biked the Mammoth Mountain
He towered over us—Mighty tall—
The clouds dark, a depressing gray
Although Adventure did not notice
And quietly biked Away
We ran toward a Volcano that seemed
High in the Sky—
The crater was barely visible—
Ash floating in the Sky
Since then ‘tis Years—and yet
Feels no longer than the Day
I first glanced at the Jungle Jeep
That carried me Away
Is Somebody Out There?
By Joseph Schooling
Is somebody out there?
Are you alone—too?
Then we are twins
Speak not—they’ll find us, you know!
How lonely to be by yourself
How alone—like a scavenger for life!
To have somebody be with you?
Oh, what a dream!
Crash Landing
By Sydney Dix
Going Up
By Carolyn Margulies
We were going up.
Having been so confident, so sure
that I wasn’t going to be scared on this
roller coaster made me realize something
very important: I was wrong. Why had I
chosen to go on the ride with the biggest
drop, sitting in the very front row? Now I
regretted my choice.
My hands were sweaty and my
knuckles white from clinging to the safety
bar so tightly. I thought that I might be
over reacting, so I looked around. I could
see the entire park and almost a mile farther from up here. That made me even
more afraid. Now terrified, I closed my eyes
and pretended to be at home. Safe at
home. Not on a metal death trap heading
toward disaster. Safe.
Realizing my nerves would get the
best of me if I did not face my fears, I decided to look around once more before we
went down, but it was too late. My eyes
opened just as we were at the top.
And then we dropped.
During the plane ride back to Jacksonville from the Bahamas, Leigh started to notice the bright and sunny sky beginning to
grow dark, gloomy, and sad. There was a
sudden jolt in the dreadfully small plane. She
lifted the shade from her window and peered
out the tiny, tinted, oval window. Below her,
the beautiful turquoise water had become
choppy and more fierce.
Soon after the jolt, Leigh heard the pilot’s smooth voice come through the intercom: “Passengers we are experiencing some
turbulence, most likely from the strong
winds. Hold on tight and turn off all electronics.”
Leigh thought, “Oh my gosh, what if…”
All she could think of was the worst case scenario.
Leigh was supposed to be working on
her presentation that would get her that pay
raise and promotion. She whispered to her
sister, “I have that whole presentation to do
before I get back…” but her frightened sister’s mind was elsewhere. Yet another forceful bump.
14
Complicity is Cruel
By Patrick Glover
The cement bridge spanned left and right as they passed under its cool dark shadow.
The rusty barge didn’t look out of the ordinary to any bicyclists on the bridge or any boaters in
the channel. To them, it was just a barge. But the payload of the barge was very sinister.
The barge was carrying several tons of RDX and C4 plastic explosives to be detonated
in a populated marina. Anthony, the barge’s captain, had no idea of the deadly shipment except that he was going to receive $600,000 for this delivery.
U.S. Customs never bothered to thoroughly inspect the shipment because it had the appearance of innocuous modeling clay. Anthony didn’t know who was paying him or why they
were paying him so much.
As he motored idly into the marina, the two deckhands moored his ship in one of the
open slips. Everything seemed empty—
Or so he thought.
Three camouflaged inflatable boats full of Navy SEALS suddenly zoomed up to the side
of the barge while a Chinook helicopter hovered and SWAT members zip-lined down onto the
deck. Dozens of police cars with flashing red and blue lights screeched onto the pier’s bulkhead. The National Guard surrounded his cabin.
Clearly the Department of Homeland Security was not happy. And who was to take the blame no matter how little he knew? Anthony.
A Memory to Forget
By Emily Griffin
At the base of a tree, a thick, gnarled root pushed into the earth, just under my patentleather shoe, and headed for the meadow where Kate had set out a picnic. I had known her
for seven months, but it felt as if I had known her my whole life. I loved everything about
her. The way her golden hair glistened when it met the sunlight, or how contagious her laugh
was. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stand to spend another minute away from her.
Feeling confident, I strutted through the wheat-colored meadow grass. My vision became clearer; I saw her white sundress and the lace trim around the bottom, and I saw her….
laughing.
That man next to her. His hair was as black as the midnight sky, his muscles rippled
through a satin blue shirt as he leaned in to lock-lips with the girl who was supposed to be my
future fiancé. My hands went clammy and the black velvet box that contained the shimmering
four-karat, princess-cut diamond went loose from my grip.
“I’m going to stop you there, but I think we are really making progress. I’m very proud
of you Jeffrey,” my new psychiatrist assured me.
15
Salespeople Are So Overrated
By Emily Griffin
I grasped the over-sized wooden door
handle, swung the door open, and held it for
a moment so an old lady with salt and pepper hair and pale, wrinkled skin could walk
in first. When I finally put my right foot in
the store, I immediately was sprayed with a
fruity sprits that, to be totally honest, I wasn’t fond of.
I have never enjoyed going to the
mall. I am too short for any pants to fit just
right without being hemmed and all the
shirts I have ever tried on somehow make
my already wide hips look even wider. Although I am thirty-three years old, I am still
being told by my controlling mother that my
frumpy style of clothing just isn’t
“acceptable,” especially not for her fiftieth
anniversary party. So I agreed to meet her
in the clothing department of Dillards on the
left side of the mall near the food court.
As I came closer to the gray and blue
sign spelling out DILLARDS, my mom was
nowhere in sight. But Sheila, a Dillards’
employee, was there to keep me company
for a full thirty minutes. She approached
me by saying “Hello, I’m Sheila! Is there
anything particular you are looking for today?”
I wanted to tell her that an annoying
sales lady was definitely not what I had in
mind, but instead, I politely said, “No, I’m
just browsing.”
“Well then, I can help you out! OMG!
This sweater totally brings out your eyes!
Wanna try it on??” she practically yelled in
my face.
“Well, I was going to have my—“ her
face looked too pitiful to turn down so I
stopped and asked, “Actually, will you set
up a dressing room for me?” Sheila’s face
now had a smile so big that if I tried, I could
count each individual tooth in her mouth.
As she pranced off to the dressing
room I caught a glimpse of the sweater’s
price tag and soon realized that the money I
had earned by working overtime this week
was about to go down the drain.
Sailing Across the Big Ol’ Blue
By Henry Edwards
The sails have been flying all morning
Winds gusting and howling
As we glide across the big ol’ blue
The sea gulls land on the sails
Bleached white and stand like statues.
I lay there so leisurely as I check the time
Oh, look— It’s a half past two!
Heads or Tails
By Zach Swain
I’ve been thinking about what happened
to me this week.
I, carefully arranging shelves of paper in
Office Max, was called into my boss’s office.
He told me that since I was new and he couldn’t afford any more workers that I was canned.
I drove home in my red ’86 Ford Falcon
and was pulling into my neighborhood when,
BANG, a Mercedes rammed into me. All I
could hear while trapped in the front seat of
my flipped Falcon was the sound of emergency
vehicle sirens.
When I finally escaped my banged-up
car and was examined for injuries—I’d suffered
a broken arm—I was blamed for not looking
twice and knew immediately that I now owed
the man thousands of dollars for repairs on his
shiny silver car.
I’ve been having a terrible thought.
Why not? Would anyone really care? I can’t
think about it; no, I can’t.
An ambulance drove me home because
I’d told them I didn’t want to be treated for my
broken arm.
I went. Now I am home sitting on the
couch and thinking hard. A flip to decide my
life: Heads I end it all; tails I live. Now is
when it counts.
I flip the coin and watch the shiny silver
quarter spiral through the air.
16
Possibilities
By Virginia Vasquez
As I walked past the abandoned lot, a bright flash of color and a nauseating whiff of
garbage made me stop and look closely. The illegible orange graffiti on the moldy wall saddened me; this lot had been a beautiful uplifting garden just six short months ago. It was depressing. Now, there was a dirt lot where weeds, trash and random pieces of junk had materialized. I heard the scurrying of tiny rat feet as they scavenged for food.
If the city council just assigned someone to be in charge of the area the whole
neighborhood would benefit. Students could help to clear the area. In my head, I heard the
laughing and chattering of children as they worked under the bright sun during the summer. If
the area were cleared, neat rows filled with vibrant red tomatoes and flowers from white daisies to roses could be cultivated. The stupid and annoying graffiti would be gone.
The honk of a bus reminded me I had to go to work. With a sigh, I turned my back on
the dismal lot.
How I Got Him
By Linae Parkinson
As my mom and I rode home from Nebraska where we had been visiting my grandparents, I thought about how much I would miss my grandparents when they moved away to
Canada.
I was zoning out, barely noticing the leaves changing from green to rich orange and
brown and the occasional squashed road kill. My mom pulled me out of my funk when she
said, “Why don’t we stop and get something to eat? We’ve been driving for hours.”
“Yeah, sure. Where do you want to stop?”
“Let’s be spontaneous!” She exited the highway on the next ramp. The road was full of
cars; it was probably rush hour. It looked like fast-food heaven with about seven burger joints
on both sides of the street.
All of a sudden out of nowhere I screamed, “STOP!”
My mom screeched to a stop and said, “What?! What’s wrong?” But she was too late; I
was already out of the car and running to the mangy golden retriever that had been dumped
out of the black Suburban three cars in front of our silver Durango. When the dog saw me, he
started limping toward me. It was then that I knew that he was going to be the perfect addition to my family.
17
Gone
By Madisen Kemph
Memories. Memories of when I was young. I remember my childhood like it was yesterday. I was a quiet and happy child. I was nineteen years old when I fell in love. He lived on a
farm with chickens, cows, horses, and pigs. He had light brown hair the color of straw and
brown eyes the color of mud. He grew up in Texas. A true country boy. We dated awhile and
five years later he was in a horrible car accident. It was the worst day of my life.
We were driving in his old, red beat up truck. He ran the red light. A big yellow bus was
coming towards him. The bus tried slamming on the brakes, but it was too late. The car was
completely destroyed on the driver’s side. I was sitting in the passenger seat perfectly untouched and in shock at the same time. There was no way to save him. He was gone. I had
never been so lonely.
Now I am in my eighties, and although I have lived a full life, I am still lonely and
sometimes as I sit on my porch listening to songs from the dusty black radio, the music carries me away to a time when I was young and in love.
Cleaning
By Carolyn Margulies
On the carpet floor lay
A bag of chips from last May.
The sheets are piled on the bed
From when she woke her sleepy head.
Opening the closet door,
Dresses fall onto the floor.
A note she got from the dean
Is something that I now have seen.
She will vacuum, she will scrub
The grime off of the bathtub.
I don’t want to be mean,
But her room will soon be clean.
18
Eerie Night
By Julian Vega
We Are All Surfers on a Wave
By Timothy Wallace
We are all surfers on a wave
Just along for the ride;
Some ride it to the beach
Some crash without reaching the shore
Some waves are large
Some waves are small;
Although we cannot always control how far we ride
We can control the amount of effort we put into it
We hope and pray that we don’t crash
But sometimes it just isn’t in the cards;
So we must make do with what we have
Because we are all just along for the ride
It was heard again. As I
twisted the golden knob inside my
bedroom, I heard a rattle as if
someone was rushing away. When I
entered the dim hallway, I saw the
white and red floral
vase shattered on the ground.
Starting to panic, I ran back to my
dark room
searching for a flashlight or lantern,
anything to light the darkness.
I went back down the hall
way, past my broken vase and
down the chocolate-brown steps.
Grabbing the corner of the wall, I
peered into the kitchen. Someone
was in our kitchen holding a big
knife; it looked like a butcher’s
knife. Stirred up with fright, I froze.
The brown stairs led back to
my room, the front door to the outside world. Dashing toward the
door, I looked back at an angered
man in a black outfit. I grabbed our
black door handle only to realize
that it was locked. I twisted the
lock twisted and I opened the door,
only to trip. The man was right over
me.
Natural Disaster
By Nathan McQueen
His rumpled shirt was unbuttoned beneath the loose knot of his tie. About to step forward, he glanced at his feet. He didn’t want to step into the mud and had to watch out for the
fallen trees. The itch and burn of all the mosquito bites seemed like nothing compared to
what had just happened and what might be coming.
After the tsunami, Otis Cushard had two choices: walk over miles of flooded cities dotted with islands of rubble and debris or attempt to get through the swamp that just recently
had been a forest. He had been lucky to even live, crouched high on the roof of his office
building, watching the wave come in. Now help was far away, but to survive he must try.
Squelch! Otis’s foot sank deep into the wet, pine needle ground. He sighed and looked
ahead. The ocean of uprooted trees, half sunken into the marshy ground, seemed to go on
forever. Even though Mr. Cushard didn’t know if he could survive that long without food or
water, or even walk that far, he did know that he must try.
19
One Man’s Trash is Another Man’s Treasure
By May Lee
The streetlight’s flicker danced on the freshly snow-coated pavement. As she walked
home, the cold wind lapped at her heels and penetrated her skin. It was 12 degrees.
She closed her eyes and imagined a warm, tropical paradise. She was at peace. She
could almost feel the sun kiss her forehead, and her body mold into the sun-toasted sand. Her
fantasy abruptly stopped when she heard a small whimpering noise. Her heart stopped. The
woman straightened her frozen spine and waited to hear the small cry again. Then it came.
This time it was louder and more helpless. She scurried toward the source of the sound.
As she neared the ratty dumpster, the smell of decay singed her nose hairs and made
her stomach turn. She opened the dumpster and to her astonishment she saw a small moving
object bundled up in the New York Times.
She cautiously reached over the dumpster’s rim and picked up the squirming object.
What she saw next would change her lonely life forever. She flipped over the bundle and
found herself looking into the eyes of a beautiful baby girl. The woman’s heart melted as the
baby gurgled and waved her limbs about.
Spring
By Alexis Rhodes
The sun rises bright mornings in spring,
Trees sway in the breeze, quiet and serene
Dainty flowers bloom with petals that sing,
Dew drips away from the perfumed leaves,
And flowers dance with grass so green.
Brightness turns to dark, peaceful spring night,
Leaves flutter down from the once swaying trees,
The flowers’ song stops when there’s no light,
Little drops form in the blades small eaves,
The world goes to sleep, happily at ease.
Reach Out, Live Oak
By Madisen Kemph
Reach out, live oak, and gather up your children of the forest
With arms so long, solid, and strong
Creatures everywhere; nestling in your arms,
Provide refuge and nurture them, live oak.
20
The Life
By Mikenzie Buchanan
Drinking his fourth cocktail, the CEO of a major corporation sank lazily in the back seat
after a long day at work. The limousine’s tailpipe blew white exhaust into the frigid noontime
air. He barked his destination to the driver as they weaved through the crowded streets of
New York City. The limo parked along the icy curb next to the entrance of his pent-house
apartment building. After a few minutes of fumbling with the lock, he finally made it into his
incredible home.
Made completely of glass, the far wall overlooked the bright lights of the city. Dustless
wooden furniture lined the hallways, which were framed with beautiful works of art. It was an
apartment made for Home Décor Magazine. Perfect. Although the rooms overflowed with
every item imaginable, it somehow felt empty. Five bedrooms but only one being used. No
family portraits or soccer trophies sat on any of the dressers. With the exception of the afternoon sounds coming from the streets below, the apartment was completely silent.
After setting down his briefcase, Mr. Successful twisted the cork top out of a bottle of
red wine. He drank himself to sleep, to wake up the next morning and do it all again. Just another day in the life of a billionaire.
The Kidnapping
By Morgan Ungrady
“What a horrible day,” I said to myself as I turned down the narrow, dark alley
in between the sketchy condo building and
the shady night club. I could hear the
screeching sounds of cars stopping short in
the small intersection up ahead. “Don’t
worry about it,” I told myself. “I will find another job, a better job.” I walked by the
loaded trash cans and wrinkled my nose.
Suddenly, I heard a scream. Not a playful
scream of a young child, but a loud, terrified
scream of a grown woman. I ran ahead, to
see what was going on.
“HELP!” I heard her cry. I was now
sprinting. When I got to the end of the path,
I heard another scream. Panting, I looked
forward to the vacant intersection, confused. Nothing. There was nothing or no one
out here. I looked left. Again, nothing but
the empty front of a worn out building. I
was now getting very creeped out.
Was I imagining it? Did I really hear a
scream? Was I going crazy? Another
scream. No, I was sure that was a real
scream. I looked right. No woman, just a
white limo. The limousine’s tailpipe breathed
white exhaust into the frigid noontime air.
My Room
By Sarah Griffin
Dad stares with disdain
At the carpet’s newest stain,
At the clothing swallowing up the floor,
At the bags flung carelessly by the door.
Father lets out a sigh
At my happy, comforting pig-sty,
At the waiting bed still unmade,
The drawers open from this morning’s raid.
21
New Jersey Mafia
By Ricky Villanueva
“Jessica, pack ya tings, we’re leavin!” Tony announced as he shoved his garments into
his suitcase.
Jessica was putting on her makeup and diamond-studded star earrings. She roared,
“Tony, did ya get de money?”
Sweat saturated Tony’s face as he tried to wipe it with his rough crimson towel. He
then lodged a revolver in his back pocket. “Yeah, I got de stuff now let’s go b’fore Vincent
finds out where we’re goin’!”
Jessica was gazing at her self-centered reflection in the mirror as she was positioning
her Burlington Coat Factory snow fox scarf. “Are we gonna have to pay rent on ya uncle’s
farm!”
Tony’s patience was thinning as he yanked out a Wyoming license plate from under the
mattress. “I don know Jessica, just pack ya garbage and let’s hit the road.”
Jessica shrieked, “Stop yellin’ at me Tony!”
His voice lowered as hissed, “I’m not yellin Jessica, I just don know when Vincent’s
goons’ll be here.”
They both heard their front door creak open. The penthouse grew silent. They knew
who it was. Tony cautiously grabbed his revolver and set a pillow in front of it. He then lingered in the hallway until the hitman was in sight. Tony saw him, pulled the trigger twice and
they heard a large thud as he fell to the floor.
The Hate for Baseball
By Linae Parkinson
“How can I get out of having to go to this game”
pondered Matt as he got dressed in his usual baseball
attire of a blue pin striped shirt, crisp white pants and
blue high socks, then trudged out of his room into the
garage.
“C’mon Matt a good coach can’t be late so hurry
up and get in the car!” exclaimed Matt’s father who
had been preparing for this game two hours before the
necessary time of departure so that they would not be
late.
“Okay, I’m coming” said Matt in a very unenthused voice. Matt was annoyed because his dad didn’t
understand how much the game of baseball bored him.
Every time Matt tried to explain it to him his dad
would simply say, “That’s because you aren’t good yet,
son. Let’s go practice on your hit and then see if you
still hate the game.”
So now Matt is stuck here, in his dad’s car, hearing him ramble on and on about how happy he is to
have a son that he can share his love for baseball with.
“Dad I have to tell you something…”
22
Not So Live Oak
By Alexis Rhodes
Pedaling down the silent street on her lime green beach cruiser, Noelle gazed around
wondering where everyone had gone. The previously crowded street was now vacant. All she
heard was the swooshing of the trees as she watched delicate, brightly colored leaves flutter
to the asphalt. Then, out of nowhere there was a loud BOOM then a CRAAACK. She skidded
to a halt and whirled around to notice the once blue sky had become dark purple with sudden
streaks of lightning. She squinted, and immediately saw what the “CRAAACK” had been. A
large live oak had split and crashed to the ground, its leaves still swirling in the brisk wind.
With a huff, Noelle pedaled toward the tree.
Huge branches were everywhere as were leaves and twigs. She stood and assessed the
damage “Hmm,” she thought, “the road will probably be blocked for a while but they’ll have
people come to--” her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by additional lightning bolts streaking across the sky followed by an earsplitting CRACK as the bolt struck a few feet away from
her.
Time abruptly stopped; she could feel cold, wet asphalt underneath her sticky skin and
taste a salty rust odor that momentarily filled the air. In another moment, everything went
black.
Speeding
By Mary Lisante
Quarrel in the Early Day
By Virginia Vasquez
When I heard the beginning accusations
When the insults, the betrayals were forced to
everyone’s attention
When I was told the gossip and secrets; to decide,
judge, and keep promises
When I listening, I noticed the supposed best friends,
where they shouted with much indignation on the
otherwise calm campus,
All at once, frustrated, I became bored and unhappy;
Till sighing and turning around, I decided to ignore this
latest quarrel in the stormy, early day air, and
suddenly,
Stopped and breathed in the serene simplicity of the
rain.
23
Speeding down the highway running from the past, I
couldn’t think about it… No, I
wouldn’t. The past was the past.
I wouldn’t go back to re-live all
the horrors, all the disappointments.
Suddenly, everything
stopped. I felt a rushing pain in
the back of my head like a dagger pierced my skull, then I
went blank.
I awoke in a white sanitary room, a room with… an escalator? As I stepped onto the
escalator, I had a feeling, a feeling I had longed to feel … A feeling of home.
As the escalader got to
the top there was a feeling of
love but I could not see anything
because of the fog. After a few
minutes of taking in my surroundings, the fog cleared. I
saw golden gates. They started
to open, and I knew I was
home.
Seagulls
By Mikenzie Buchanan
The ray-filled sky toasted the shore
While waves danced then lost balance and fell.
I pruned lazily in the sparkling blue sea
As the salt stung my eyes and caused my lips to swell
I looked up toward the blinding yellow fire
And a storm of white figures darted by.
The graceful animals flew fast and strong,
Until they spotted a fish—doomed to die.
Lifelong Dedication
By Graham Nichols
Summer had begun. There was more daylight than nighttime, and finally, after a few
years of waiting, my dad had bought me a set of clubs. As soon as I got the short clubs, I told
myself, “Practice will only make me better.” Today, I still keep this motto in my mind.
“Mornin, Mom,” I said quietly because she was lying in bed gazing at the morning traffic
whizz by and attempting to neglect the summer’s strong ray’s poking her eyes through the
window.
“Good morning son. What time is it?”
“I’m not sure. The sun is out.”
The shining sun put a smile on my face because the sun meant I could practice. It
would be dry.
Every day I would practice, hitting for hours and hours, many balls, shot after shot, and
never-ending sessions of “just one more swing.”
I taught myself. I evolved from a beginner of golf to an amateur just loving the game,
to a professional playing with the best players of my time.
Summers and summers have passed since that morning. As I grew, short clubs and
longer clubs were retired into the garage. Never would I try to sell those clubs because I knew
they had helped me learn. Perhaps I would give them to someone who wanted to begin to
play golf.
Now my mom was standing with my bag. Handing me a club, she said “It is just another swing.”
I teed up the ball, took a glance at the large crowd lining the pristine green fairway.
I did what I do best. I stepped up and made a great swing, and the white, dimpled ball
soared right down the middle over the green grass.
24
The Mouth-watering Oreo Cookie
By Margaret Odom-Tomchin
Have you ever wondered about the simple great tasting cookie sitting in the pantry
waiting to be eaten? Well, if you haven’t, you should. The Oreo cookie is not like other
cookies. Its two dark brown disks and snow white cream filling can’ t help make folks feel
simply wonderful. It’s easy to go to the grocery store and buy a plain and dull tasting cookie.
But, the Oreo, filled with an outstanding taste, has many fun and appealing ways it can be
used. This one of a kind cookie can be used in pies, cakes, ice-cream, milkshakes, or just be
eaten plain because after all, it is milk’s favorite cookie!
The Oreo was first made in New York City in 1912. Nabisco, the company that made
the Oreo cookie, wanted to target the British market mainly because “English biscuits” appeared to be too ordinary. Originally, this one of a kind cookie shaped like a mound was only
made in two kinds: lemon and cream. In America, they sold in silver metal cans and charged
25 cents a pound. As the years went on, the company came out with more cool and fun designs; Oreos were a huge hit. Nearly 491 billion small rounded Oreo sandwiches have been
produced since 1912. That is a lot of cookies!
Many other cookies try to compete with this magnificent cookie. The Milano for example has two disks and a filling of some sort, but you can’t take the two disks apart without
making a crumbly mess. Even other simple chocolate chip cookies have disadvantages. The
whole entire cookie can’t fit into the cup to dip. Instead, the cookie is broken in two and then
dipped, but the Oreo fits right into the cup without any hassle. These other cookies require
some messy and inconvenient steps, but not the Oreo.
The Oreo cookie conquers the desert world with delicious satisfaction. After staring at
this perfect masterpiece, one can’t help wondering how perfectly circular and rounded they
are shaped. The dazzling bright white cream taunts the mouth and the eye catches the near
perfect designs imprinted in the chocolate disks. Finally, the Oreo bathes in the creamy, cold
smooth milk for seconds; your hard teeth easily bite down on the Oreo. You are perfectly
satisfied.
Yet, there appear to be some minor disadvantages. If the Oreo bathes in the milk too
long, it might turn out to be too soft and melt in your hand. This chocolate cookie melts easily if put near a hot area and might even fall apart while in the dunking process: this can be
very frustrating. The fragile plastic wrapping can also cause the sandwich to fall apart, thus
leaving a bit of a mess in the packaging. Overall, there are not many flaws in this wonderful
product.
Oreos stunned the cookie world. They marked an important time in history. Like
Marie Antoinette would say, “Let them eat..... Oreos.”
The Binoculars
By Virginia Vasquez
A small gray owl with eyes shiny and bright
Sits in the grass while balloons take flight.
I pick him up and borrow his eyes
We track the colors high in the skies.
25
The Early Departure
By May Lee
The royal blue curtains billowed as the brisk autumn wind danced through the whiterimmed window. Outside, a squirrel teetered on the edge of the sill as it pecked at its beloved
nut. The squirrel’s bliss irked the girl. Her heart sunk as she saw a giggling young girl’s ponytails swing as she and her friends merrily played their game of hopscotch.
The fall aroma now encircled the room and nauseated her. An abrupt breeze darted
through the window and made her thin blonde hair stick to her damp, emaciated cheek.
Warm, salty tears flooded her swollen eyes and dribbled down her face. Through the window
she saw a lush sea of vibrant pines and a flock of birds ascend up towards the setting sun.
She envied their effortless ability to depart her world.
As she trudged to her closet, she kicked the piles of crumpled clothes that blocked her
path. She felt around on the top shelf of her closet. Dust drifted down as she frantically
searched for her silk rope. She grasped the velvety rope and dust fluttered down as if dancing
to a sad melody. The cool, soothing silk comforted her as it molded to her fragile neck. She
closed her puffy eyes. The serpent slithered around her throat as she reflected upon her lonely
life. She thought to herself, “Why not? Would anyone really care?”
Delicious Doughnuts
By Jonah Schiller
I approached the doughnuts stacked up like a pyramid. We were supposed to wait until
dessert, but I had a perfect opportunity to walk right past the mountain of chocolate glazed
doughnuts with rainbow sprinkles and grab one, cleverly without anyone knowing. Should I?
Why not? Would anyone really care? I could not make up my mind.
Finally, after two minutes of standing by the black table covered with a white tablecloth,
I snagged one.
All of the doughnuts looked like they had just come out of the fryer. I could have taken
three or four, but I decided that it was bad enough that I had stolen one. It was delicious. The
doughnuts were hot and the chocolate oozed down the back of my throat.
As I headed toward my seat in the back of the huge room, a big man in a yellow security suit touched my shoulder and spun me around. He had wrinkles on his face and he was
almost bald. My heart started to race as he started to talk. I was so scared that I could not
understand what he was saying. While he was talking, I realized he was not talking about my
stolen doughnut. He asked me if I was enjoying the party! Stuffing my face with that round
chocolaty glazed dessert, I smiled and continued walking to my seat.
26
The Dishwasher
By Joseph Schooling
The giant white mouth opens wide
Its teeth consume plates inside
The muffled sound digests the debris
And it opens back up sparkling clean
The Wendy’s Legacy
By Chris Ware
As I was thinking about what I could write about for this assignment, I thought of
something I really liked and enjoyed. I couldn’t have come up with anything better than
Wendy’s. Between the heavyweights of the never ending array of the hamburger and fry
chain restaurants, Wendy’s truly revolutionized the fast food game with pickup windows and
their now-famous square hamburgers.
The founder, a very brilliant man named Dave Thomas dreamt of running a restaurant
when he was in his younger years. In 1969 that dream became a reality and within ten years
Wendy’s was a national hit with more than 1,500 locations opened. Now Wendy’s is cherished by fast food lovers world wide.
Wendy’s does in fact have competition. McDonald’s is their main competition. Although McDonald’s is good, it doesn’t offer the choices as Wendy’s menu does. Sure, Mickey
D’s has the Big Mac, but that is road kill compared to Wendy’s square, juicy, heavenly, delectable hamburgers. At Wendy’s the consumer also doesn’t feel as if he just hooked a hose
up to a margarine truck and stuck it down his throat, as you do when eating McDonald’s extremely greasy food. When it comes to the competition, Wendy’s is way ahead, and they are
especially original with their ever-changing menu of easy, fast, and fresh choices.
Nothing in this world is perfect, including Wendy’s. One might think, “How is this possible?”, but, hey, how nothing is without its flaws. Sometimes the fries aren’t salty enough,
or they are soggy and not very appetizing. It’s also a little bothersome when you go to one
Wendy’s and get a Double Stack for 99 cents and then go to a different Wendy’s and you
end up paying $1.49 because at that Wendy’s they are no longer include the Double Stack
on the Super Value menu. These minor imperfections are not consistent imperfections, so I,
along with other Wendy’s lovers, will continue to cherish this fast food gift from the heavens
above.
Wendy’s is easily the best fast food restaurant out there. The Frosty gives you a chilling sensation throughout your body as the chocolate or vanilla (whichever you prefer) rushes
into your mouth to back up that ice storm of coldness. My personal favorite, the Spicy Asian
Boneless Buffalo Wings, are really great. They dig into your taste buds with bulldozer like
force, with both sweet and spicy flavors. The newest addition to the Wendy’s menu is the
Double Stack; it is fast, affordable and fresh. And at only 99 cents, this wonderful creation
doesn’t put a strain on the buyer’s wallet and is still very fresh, as Wendy’s always promises
to be.
Wendy’s is one untouchable restaurant renowned throughout the world as one of the
greatest fast food restaurants ever. Every time I go to this establishment my body fills with
familiar excitement. I absolutely love Wendy’s!
27
Best Friends
By Sydney Dix
In the summer when I was 10
years old, my life changed… forever. My
dad died and my mom could no longer
financially support my five siblings and
me. I was put up for adoption. Six
months later I was living with a new
family, and I started a new school.
The first three weeks were the
hardest. Nobody talked to me, and I sat
by myself in the cafeteria. My life felt like
a puzzle that had been torn apart. During the fourth week, I was wishing that
my classmates would not talk to me because when they did they taunted me.
Finally, someone spoke kind words
to me. Her name was Katherine. She had
long, curly, chocolate brown hair, the opposite from my short, straight, blonde
hair. Most of the time she wore her ringlets in ribbons that matched the color of
her outfits.
One day her mother showed up in
our little, decorated classroom to help
the teacher. Katherine introduced us.
One week later I was walking down a dirt
road to her house. At the base of the
tree in her back yard, a thick gnarled
root pushed into the earth, just underneath my patent-leather shoe, and I
headed over to where Katherine had set
up a picnic; she was my new best friend.
Temptation
By Virginia Vasquez
Walking into the school’s main hallway,
the loud clanging of slamming locker doors
surrounded me as my sneakers squeaked on
the beige linoleum floor. My heartbeat quickened. Despite studying for the past several
weeks, I still felt unsure about this algebra
exam. I leaned against my blue locker and
hurriedly shuffled through the purple, green,
and pink note-cards that held the information
that the exam would cover. I knew it didn’t
do much good to study now. It was too late
to help.
I sat down at my desk and nervously
clicked the eraser of my red mechanical pencil. The exam was just now being handed out,
and I noticed the plain walls, the absence of
informative math posters very obvious now. I
knew that I was in trouble. My bag landed on
the floor with a dull thud, and my study
sheets were suddenly visible. My face flushed
with heat, but no one had noticed. A very
ugly choice presented itself. Why not? Would
anyone really care?
One Day at Jax Beach
By Walker Hill
Slash, splash! I tried to swim back to shore during a hot summer storm against a
strong ocean current. Sucked into the riptide, I was scared to death. Soon everything was
black.
When I woke up, a pretty lifeguard was in my face; in the background were a crowd of
people, and, of course, my parents. As I blinked and coughed, they looked like they were
about to explode with joy.
I felt really bad, but when I stood up and apologized, they told me I was crazy, that I
had nothing to be sorry about.
28
Nervous Breakdown
By Salem Peacock
As Ryan pulls his bright orange cap over his head and positions his goggles over his
eyes, he begins to feel butterflies in his stomach. Quickly, he grips the large red bucket,
bends over, dunks his head into it and gags. People looked at him as if he is having a nervous breakdown, then the announcer calls his even.
He walks toward the blocks feeling anxious. He waits nervously for the official to blow
the whistle. He pulls his arm across his chest and holds them, feeling his muscles stretching.
The whistle blows. He grips the bars over his head and situates his feet. As he pulls his muscular body up, his ripped, defined muscles explode out of his back.
Beep! Ryan pushes off the wall with all his power and flies back into the water.
The Doggy
By Rachel Honig
Just waking up, I stretch out my legs
Now I’m on the way to ask for some food
Smelling the crisp bacon, itʼs time to beg
I hope to be given some yummy scraps
Just sit patiently and wait—Good dog, good
Now they know Iʼm here, just wanting to eat
Anything is fine even eggs or toast
I donʼt enjoy looking at icky feet…
The bacon sizzles I can hear it cook
Jim gave me food! I like him the most
I’m Free
By Kindt Brady
A normal farm boy from the country, happy as can be. Plays with his friends almost
everyday in the valley after school. Smart kid, wouldn’t hurt a fly, didn’t care what people
thought of him. And never complained if he didn’t get what he wanted. But one cold rainy
night he was taken from his family and would never see them again.
Poor kid, never saw it coming. Who would do such a thing to a young child? Taken
from his family and friends, his life changed faster than you could imagine. Put into a camp
where he would have to work non-stop all day and night. Terrible, hurtful and inhuman
things these people were doing to this child, but he was not alone. As there was hundreds of
more children with him.
Sick and tired of this work he decides to make a run for it. He runs like the wind never
looking back, and then guns go off as they try to stop him from escaping. Running, he sees
an opening in the brush. He falls, the marsh lay before him, vast and smooth and golden like
wheat.
29
Vending Machine
By Jonah Schiller
A black and red bear with food and refreshments
Stands before me as I look for spare cents.
I hand him round coins and then right away
He gives me a coke and a snack, hooray!
Roadside Bombing
By Henry Edwards
It was cold, so cold that it seemed like it reached down to your
bones. It was early January in Afghanistan. My spotter and I were lying
in the snow beside the main road looking for roadside side bombers.
The day had been slow, I had just started opening a can of Copenhagen chewing tobacco and the pleasant and distinctive aroma was filling
my stone cold body. As I reached to put a wad into my mouth, my spotter, Vince, whispered, “Target.” I looked through my scope and saw three
Afghanis coming down the road in an old jeep.
Vince continued: “Three targets, northeast, proceeding at about
twenty miles per hour. One jeep, three men, all armed. Fire when ready.”
I took a deep breath.
Everything in the world seemed to stand still. Bang! I fired the fifty
cal sniper rifle and the recoil rattled my entire body. The blazing bullet
pierced the windshield. The driver was dead. The old muddy jeep went
off course and crashed in a ditch
The other two radicals ran out to take cover behind the vehicle. I
could see one and I took a shot… Bang! “Two down,” I said to myself,
“one to go.” The shooting stopped.
The silence had an eerie feel. I quickly scanned the area and saw
the second radical hiding behind the trunk of the overturned jeep. I had a
small window of opportunity, and I took it. I fired again. Bang! I wasn’t
sure if he was dead or not but after several minutes of nothing happening, I said to Vince, “Alright, call it in. Let’s head home.”
I took one last look down by the car and saw a quick flash. Suddenly, Vince was dead.
30
Fort Ord: Abandoned?
By Patrick Glover
Fort Ord was abandoned decades ago, but why leave thousands of acres of suburban
neighborhoods deserted? Not a person for miles and the scenery consists mostly of dead
brush, chipping paint, and cracked asphalt in front of one-story homes. Everything looks like it
was from the 1960’s. What was once a suburb is now a wasteland.
The air is dry and arid on this hot California day. After hopping the rusted chain-link
fence, we notice that the grass is dead. It’s the usual small town appearance otherwise,
though, as far as the eye can see, yet not a soul exists in this suburb. And the indoors of the
houses are completely intact! As though they left yesterday!
We continue along our impromptu journey until something catches our eyes: A giant
brick office building. Curiosity taunts us until we stroll in.
The door is labeled “CONDEMNED” in bold letters on a piece of laminated Manila paper.
Guessing that no one has been here for years, we kick down the rotten wooden door and find
a dusty row of cubicles and some Geiger counters. We aren’t sure why radiation levels need to
be measured in a suburb, but then it all makes sense when a voice comes over a loudspeaker:
“DANGER. DANGER. CLEAR THE AREA. NUCLEAR TEST IN 30 SECONDS. DANGER. DANGER.”
My New Best Friend
By Timothy Wallace
I was walking home from school on a crisp winter day when I bumped into a peculiar
looking man walking out of Starbucks toward his limousine. His scalding hot chocolate
splashed all over my pants.
The man’s appearance shocked me; he had green hair and a dirty red face. He wore a
brown shirt with white suspenders and was only about four feet tall. He looked familiar, but I
couldn’t remember where I had seen him before. Then it hit me, the strong smell of cocoa
beans. I now felt stupid for not realizing who he was. He was an Oompa-Loompa!
He looked up at me and apologized for having created a large, chocolate-flavored stain
on my white pants. He then went on to ask if I wished to visit the chocolate factory where he
worked. I was speechless. It took me a few seconds to recover, but I managed to say, “Yes.”
He told me he would give me a private tour of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. He said he
had to get back to work but was looking forward to meeting with me the next day.
His petite, crimson body slid easily into the large, white limousine waiting on the curbside. The limousine’s tailpipe breathed white exhaust into the frigid noontime air.
The Microwave
By Ricky Villanueva
A glass rhinoceros with a warm belly
Heats all my food delicious and smelly.
He’ll say it’s ready with a blast from his horn
And give me my food when it’s nice and warm.
31
Tornado Trouble
By Virginia Vasquez
Charlene hurried up the narrow, winding, streets where the vibrant hanging daisies and
ferns dripped from the downpour. She pushed up her round glasses with the penny-colored
frames that hid her warm, cocoa eyes. Her long, curly brown “poodle” hair frizzed to astonishing degrees in the uncomfortably muggy weather that smothered the small region of Maine
like a blanket.
Charlene knew that if she didn’t make it to the public library on time, she would have to
wait until after school tomorrow to borrow A Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia
Marquez. Her teacher had encouraged her to read it.
“Hello, Charlene,” Mrs. Roberts, the elderly librarian with clear blue eyes greeted Charlene. “No visitors are allowed in here, but I guessed they haven’t been able to put the sign
up…”
At first, Charlene couldn’t accept it. Burly men were helping load water-soaked books
from unorganized, dirty piles into boxes. Large industrial flashlights rolled on the disgusting
ground and lay on any available surface while blue plastic tarps covered most of the exposed
floor. There was an even more unbelievable sight. The entire back portion of the west wing lay
in a huge pile of debris, ruined books everywhere.
“Mrs. Roberts…what happened here?”
“Oh, you must have been out of town when it hit. Two days ago, a violent tornado blew
through. We’re trying to salvage what we can, but things aren’t looking very good…”
Charlene knew any chance of reading the book had vanished.
Happy Meal Supreme
By Richard Zimmerman
I have just purchased a Happy Meal from McDonald’s. Included in my Happy Meal is a
little carton of crispy French fries, six steaming hot Chicken McNuggets, and a cold, refreshing
Coca-Cola.
I open the red box. I pick up my first chicken nugget and dip it into the sweet-smelling
ketchup. In my mouth the nugget waters like Adventure Landing in the middle of the summer. I finish the first in one bite then cool myself down with my Coca-Cola.
I glance at my crisp French fries and I stick ten in my mouth. “Perfect,” I say to myself.
I take another chicken nugget and drop it into a napkin filled with ketchup. Soon all of my
French fries are gone. No way! All that is left are my chicken nuggets. Three left. I eat the one
in two bites of excellence. I eat the next one in one bite. And for the last one, I cut it up into
three pieces. One of the pieces will be dipped in ketchup, one in ranch, and one plain.
Happy Meal from McDonald’s has hit the spot. I put my tray up, refill my Coca Cola and
resume my day.
32
We Are All Surfers on a Wave
By Timothy Wallace
We are all surfers on a wave
Just along for the ride;
Some ride it to the beach
Some crash without reaching the shore
Some waves are large
Some waves are small;
Although we cannot always control how far we ride
We can control the amount of effort we put into it
We hope and pray that we don’t crash
But sometimes it just isn’t in the cards;
So we must make do with what we have
Because we are all just along for the ride
The Story of Herbert Smith Cabot, a Vagabond, and Jimmy
By Ricky Villanueva
It was one of the harshest winters in San Francisco history. Jimmy, my quadriplegic
pet grasshopper and I, Herbert Smith Cabot, were huddled around a small bonfire. My long
grubby black beard helped to keep my face warm. I was wearing my everyday attire, a plaid
jacket with holes and Levis jeans. Jimmy had a strange yellow gloom and I could tell that he
was not feeling his usual self. I asked him, “Jimmy, waz wrong? Ya ain’t looking too good.”
He did not respond, and I grew concerned.
My attention then focused on a loud siren and bright circular columns of light descending on the streets. A tall gray man in an orange jumpsuit was running down the side walk. I
asked, “Hey waz goin on ‘round here?” Ignoring my question, he impolitely ran right through
me, knocking me off balance. I tumbled down too quickly for Jimmy to jump off my shoulder,
and so he was squished by my body. Jimmy twitched on the sidewalk and I heard a tiny
squeak coming from his little mouth.
The man in the orange jumpsuit was trying to break a car’s window in a nearby parking
lot. My sorrow quickly grew into rage as I examined this insect murderer. I sprinted towards
the assassin with my arms loaded and anger deep in my eyes. “You killed Jimmy!” I proclaimed as I wrapped him up and slammed him into the ground.
As I walked away from the fray, I felt a small tap on my shoulder. It was my grasshopper, Jimmy.
33
34