Young Writers discussion
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Make fun of my old writing.
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Maria [the clockwork creeps on useless lives], Butts butts
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![Maria [the clockwork creeps on useless lives] (mariachhile) | 8772 comments](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1322709957p1/2412416.jpg)
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Fearfully, Scottie looked up at me. “What should I do?” she asked. I looked down at her. We were standing in a cave by snow, like we had back in Minnesota. Unlike all the other dreams I had, this time it was like I was watching from the sidelines. In the shadowy corner crouched a creature. I had no idea what it was, or what it was doing there. Crowding in the other corners were random people, but one was standing out in particular. It was a guy, about my age, fiddling with his belt loop, looking extremely bored. The creatures squirmed, he looked at it, was and then looked away, as if he was sick of it. THe actual me (the one watching from the sidelines) watched him. For some reason, my eyes were drawn towards him. There was something familiar about him, yet he was so... different. I couldn't recall where I needed him from.
Scottie crouched closer to me, scared among all the strange people, and keeping her eyes on the creature, watching to make sure it didn't do anything. The creature to me, was beautiful. IT looked like a bright white moon with a sliver of sunlight on it. I wasn't scared by at, actually, my fear was quelled by it. Yet, when I started to examine it more closely, I turned my attention back to the teenager, who was walking behind me, hands in pockets. I watched as I hugged Scottie and murmured words into her ear. What did it mean? Why couldn't I hear her? I tried to step closer, but was blocked by an invisible wall. Whenever I touched that space in air, I heard the sound of metal clanging. I saw Scottie move a little away from me, advancing towards the beautiful moon creature. She was trying to be brave enough to go near it. I watched. Though, when she got within eight feet of it, she ran back and clung to me.
I decided to give it a go, and I went over to Scottie to ask her a question, the invisible wall cleared. When I was a couple steps away from her, she caught my eye. I don't think she noticed it wasn't the dream me.
"Isn't that creature beautiful?" I asked her, wondering what she thought of this spectacular beauty. She shook her head, and got low to the ground. I wondered how this could be. The creature was almost in the shape of a swan, with the moon and sun coloring.
"Then what does it look like?" I questioned, curious.
"The devil," she whispered, her thin voice shaking, "It's going to go after me! It's ringed with fire and has the most ugly face imaginable. I shook my head in confusion. It couldn't be. I looked at it again, but this time, I crept across the stone floor so far that I was almost touching it. It had the significant splotches of the moon, and when I put my hand over the part that looked like a shaft of golden sunlight, it felt warm. It emitted a soft buzzing sound whenever you got near it.
Finally I got brave enough to touch the rare beauty. When my very fingertips touched it's back, a shot of warmth shot through me, followed by a bolt of unbelievable pain. Bittersweet, I thought. It felt like someone had put me underneath a telephone pole on a rainy night and sent down a lightning bolt. I shivered. The pain, like the warmth only lasted a second, but the feeling would be ingrained into my skull forever. I shivered once more, not from the shock, but from the bone chilling coldness that followed the shock. Then, getting gathering enough sense to get over my surprise, I took my hand off and felt immediate relief. I backed away, frightened. I ran to the edge of the cave and stopped, the boy's mysterious face luring me back for one more time. I tried to get another look, but Scottie pulled me away. He didn't look very unusual. He looked like he would be Esmerelda's brother; except for he had blue eyes, not brown. I didn't know what drew me to it, and I didn't know why I looked back. Finally, Scottie tugged me one last time, and out of the cave.
However, we fell over the edge, falling, falling, falling...
Maria [the clockwork creeps on useless lives] wrote: "Part of a chapter I wrote in 6th grade oh my god it makes me cryno
why
Fearfully, Scottie looked up at me. “What should I do?” she asked. I looked down at her. We were standing in a cave by snow..."
That wasn't bad.
It's better than how I write now. :P
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Brigid ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
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And she fell asleep. She had a rather creepy dream. She had a dream there was two other of her. She was standing in front of them and in between them there was a unicorn. She was just watching the other two argue over if the unicorn was real or not.
“I think it’s fake.”
“I think it’s real, see?” and the one that thought it was real punched it hard. The unicorn stumbled sideways, neighing.
“It must be a robot.” The other one mumbled. And she punched the other one.
“It’s real!” (punch)
“it’s fake!” (kick)
And the two started to fight, kicking and punching and biting each other.
“Stop this! This is a stupid argument!” Kathleen screamed.
“Shut up!” one of her shouted back. And she punched the other one’s head off. Kathleen creamed, a real scream, and woke up screaming. But she stopped immediately.
Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "AHAHAHA GUYS. So, I stumbled once again upon the beautiful unicorn story I wrote when I was 9. And just ... OH MY GOSH I FOUND THIS RIDICULOUS DREAM SEQUENCE, AND ON TOP OF THAT I THINK IT HAS THE ..."
HOLDEN WHERE ARE YOU THIS REQUIRES A DRAMATIC READING. ;D
HOLDEN WHERE ARE YOU THIS REQUIRES A DRAMATIC READING. ;D
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Brigid ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
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Yes, yes you can. XD
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Brigid ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
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http://thespeakerofnonsense.tumblr.co..."
OH LORD YES, SO GOOD. <3
Holden wrote: "Just gonna leave this here...http://thespeakerofnonsense.tumblr.co..."
OMG I LOVE YOUR VOICE SO MUCH THOUGH
If any of you ever want to make an audiobook I totally have all the perfect music.
I WANT TO NARRATE AUDIOBOOKS THAT IS ONE OF MY DREAM JOBS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.
Holden wrote: "Like it's not necessarily one of my dreams but wow I think it'd actually be kinda fun I love reading out loud AND NOW I ACTUALLY HAVE AN EXCUSE TO WITH, ER, HIGH QUALITY LITERATURE"INDEED VERY HIGH QUALITY LITERATURE
Sadly, I lost the journal I kept all my writings from elementary school in :'( There was some strange stuff in there, too . . so anyway, the oldest writing I have is from when I was eleven.Lol, it is still VERY horrible, however, so you shall not be disappointed in that aspect x) This is the first paragraph of a Warrior's fanfic I wrote a longish enough time ago: . . .
Golden sun filtered through the trees as Sasha, a young black house cat with a white chest, walked among the forest. Still young and curious she looked at everything, keeping her mouth open so she could make out all the smells clearly. Sasha suddenly heard something jump on the fence that was next to her; she arched her small back and jumped to the side to look up. Then she relaxed and felt relief rush through her, but then was scared again, it was her mother. Cookie, her mother, was looking down at her with worry in her eyes "Sasha, what did I tell you about the forest" she said sternly "it is very dangerous out here what if a wild cat had found you". Sasha looked at her paw "I ….I’m sorry mother I just wanted to explore" Sasha exclaimed. "Sasha you come home right now" her mother replied then a strange look appeared in her eyes and she sighed "when we get home I think there is something I should tell you."
>.> I can't believe I just posted that . . . so ashamed . .
OH MY GOODNESS MY OLD FAN FICTION I HAVE OVER FIFTY OF THEM SAVED ON MY COMPUTER AND MY FIRST ONES WERE TERRIBLE KALJSFLSJ;LASFJLDAS
I was searching through my recycle bin and I found this.I think wrote this when I was around ten-ish. I was into angels and Stephanie Meyer's writing. Judge me all you want.And there are probably spelling mistakes. Oh and sorry it's so long. Okay here it goes... The shame >.<
Dark red, wavy hair, soft skin, honey coloured eyes. Angel like. This was the new me. No more scars, bruises, pain. Forever seventeen. Ever Ross is my name. And I am an Angel.
It was late. Very late. Or maybe just really early in the morning. It was also very cold, and I was coming home from a party. I hugged myself to keep warm.My feet ached from my red stilleto heels. So I limped until I decided I've had enough and pulled them of my sore feet. The ground wasn't soft, with shards of broken glass shattered all over the place. Probably from old beer bottles.I shivered when a cold breeze brushed against my bare arms and legs. I clutched my heels more firmly. The sound of distant shuffeling reached my ears. I turned around in alarm as I thought I was the only person on the street. There, where two men walking with half empty beer bottles in their hands. Probably not their first though. I quickend my pace, hoping to catch a bus quickly and get out of here. As i concentrated on my pace, I didn't really concentrate on where my aching feet where stepping. Suddenly I felt a stab of pain, like my foot was flaming up.
'Shoot!' I exclaimed. I hopped to a side of a closed grocery shop and leaned against the wall for support as I tried to get the shard of glass out of my foot, wincing everytime I moved it. 'Need a hand missy?' asked one of the men. They were getting closer. The other man snorted drunkly. When I didn't answer he called again.'I could give you a hand' He held up his hands and wiggle his fingers. I started to panic, they were coming closer. The second man, the taller one, pulled out a pocket knife. The panic inside me exploded.
I gave up on trying to get the shard of glass out of my foot and started to limp away. Every movement wincing in pain. The man with the pocket knife in his hand called out this time.'Don't run away missy, we can help you' His voice was slobbered and he smiled. My feet were throbbing so I had to slow down. Suddenly I heard a ripping noise. I turned my head. My eyes widened in shock, my mouth made a big 'o'. The two men had grown larger maybe 4 times the size of me and I was quite tall. Their muscles had grown bigger, their eyes were as black a coal, their teeth grown sharper like a sharks'. I screamed. I started to run for my life. I didn't care about my foot.The two men also had two red horns sticking out of their head, they remided me of the devil.
They might even be a Devils creation. A low growl came from their throat.'Well come on Raven wanted her killed, lets to it!' The man, or whatever it was, who wasn't holding the knife said. His voice a growl. A car drove past us. The driver drove past as if nothing was going on, he didn't stop or anything. How could he not see the big vicious scary monsters who were right there! I wanted to call for help but it was to late.My leg was gruesome now, the shard of glass had stuck through my foot and was gushing red blood. I turned around. That'swhen when I felt a pang of pain crawl along my chest. The monster with the knife was too fast. Or I was just too slow. Hehad gotten to me and had stuck the knife in my chest. I looked in to his black eyes, not believing that I was going to die.
His eyes showed pride, like he was happy that he finally got to me and that I was slowly dying. He left the knife inside me.'Hah good work. Raven is going to be happy!' The other monster said. I was to weak to stay up and gravity pulled me down to the ground. Everything went black as my eyelids drooped down.
I had to.
I'm not saying ALL high-schoolers write like this (I'm sure all of the ones in this group don't) but these were too funny NOT to post. XD
XD Okay, so I was in a really bad mood when I started reading these (due to a fight with my brother), but now you have me laughing so hard, like when a mentally unstable person gets dragged into the hospital. xP
Maiven wrote: "XD Okay, so I was in a really bad mood when I started reading these (due to a fight with my brother), but now you have me laughing so hard, like when a mentally unstable person gets dragged into th..."Haha!
That's good to hear. :D
The lamp just sat there like an Imamate object.Oh.
My.
God.
I know, right?And we thought OUR writing was cringe-worthy…
Some of these are actually quite accurate...
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Brigid ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
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my disturbed nine year old self wrote this:Me and my Best Bud, Riley Hibbard, Walked into the school building. “…And he insisted on wearing his Scooby Doo pajama’s to school!”
Riley nodded sympathetically. You could always count on his not to laugh when she was serious.
“Heads up.” He whispered. “It’s the queen bee and her possy.” Katie, Carmella, and Rocky walked down the Hall. Their designer bags hung at their sides. They were so decked out in makeup, it looked like fireworks were going of on their faces. They all walked up to their lockers and did that We-are-cooler-than-you hair flip thing. Suddenly I was very aware of the fact that I looked like a complete mess, because I hadn’t woke up until about ten minuets before the bus came. I had had just enough time to brush my teeth for about two seconds, brush my hair and put a headband in, get dressed and wolf down some cereal and OJ before the bus pulled up. The result was a shirt two sizes to small, jeans that had tears at the knees, rat-nest hair and mis-matched socks. “Eww.” Katie said as she looked over me. “Where did you find that outfit? The dumpster?” Her friends smirked and did that hair thing again. Katie walked away, but kind of ruined the threaten-y moment by tripping on her high heels.
and also this:I wrote down my observations. smells like flowors from out garden. a bad temper, lives like a gorilla, and has inside genes. he’s four. He has a warped since of humor. after all, I can only be a genius so much. I went off to dance class. when I got there, the worst song ever was being sung by our instructor
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Sam~~ we cannot see the moon, and yet the waves still rise~~
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Charlotte wrote: "my disturbed nine year old self wrote this:Me and my Best Bud, Riley Hibbard, Walked into the school building. “…And he insisted on wearing his Scooby Doo pajama’s to school!”
Riley nodded symp..."
hahahaha oh my goodness.
and this!shoved in the large bag .a little a help here! Karen said, hidden by the luggage. after jules helped carrie and lad the luggage, she went to pack her suitcase. I had three pairs of underwear, thirteen shirts, my Ipod and my wallat! Jules hurried downstairs just in time to see the ailine bus come to the house.
WAIT I WENT BACK THROUGH MY HOLOCAUST STORY FROM FOURTH GRADE AND HOW COULD WE MISS THIS LINE:The man was his best friend, and went to church with him.
OKAY SO IF THE ONE GUY'S A JEW, HE WOULD GO TO A SYNAGOGUE? AND IF THE OTHER GUY ISN'T, THEN HE WOULDN'T GO TO A SYNAGOGUE?
GOOD JOB LITTLE EMILY, A+.
And how did Peter have a gun? Didn't Hitler take away all of them...?
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Sam~~ we cannot see the moon, and yet the waves still rise~~
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Emily [CAESAR AND THE EAGLES OF FEMINISM] wrote: "And how did Peter have a gun? Didn't Hitler take away all of them...?"shhh. you were in fourth grade. it's all good.
oh man. i really have to dig up some of my old writing. trust me, it's much, much worse than any of these. :p
I'm pretty sure my Holocaust story won. But I'd like to see yours.
So my brother wrote this story called Michael Jackson and the Beanstalk when he was younger... Comedy gold, man. I'll have to type it up and do a dramatic reading.
So, I wrote this stuff when I was like (six? Eight? I actually don't remember, but I was younger than right now...)In an alley there are two alley cats named Nut and Pinky. Pinky‘s a lazy cat and Nut is, well, nutty a hour later the black alley called in a cat whose name is Candypoo He’s an shy cat and he’s fat he has black fur, Pinky looked at Nut “Who’s the fat guy now?” Pinky said to Nut (Nut calls Pinky fat) “Hey you two do you know how to get Food?” Candypoo said “Who are you and I don’t know how to get food” Pinky said “You can eat Him!” Pinky said looking at Nut “What!” Candypoo said looking dumbly at Pinky “What are your names?” Candypoo Asked “I’m Pinky he’s Nut what’s you name.” Pinky said “Candypoo” Candypoo said “I need to go home Good bye I’ll be back!” Candypoo said at he’s home a man and a woman saw Candypoo the man’s name is Rocco and the woman’s name is Jannine “Meow?” Candypoo looked sad Jannine Rubbed his Belly “Aw poor, Poor Candypoo” Jannine Said sadly
And then I wrote this (A redo of the old thing, it's still pretty bad, but it's better!)
In a dark alley, there were two cats; Nut and Pinky. Pinky was a lazy feline, lying in the sun all day long. Nut, well, lets just say the name fits him... Early in the day, while Pinky slept and Nut had been running about in a circle for an hour, the alley called out to a cat that was passing by. He couldn’t place why he felt so compelled to go down the alley, but Candypoo, the fat, black furred housecat went none-the-less. Pinky woke up and spotted Candypoo. He laughed and looked at Nut. “Well, who’s the fat guy now, eh? Not me! Just take a look at that porker.” Candypoo wasn’t offended. He was at peace with his obesity. Kept him warm at night; and, well, truthfully Candypoo was such a pig that being lean wasn’t worth the sacrifice. So, his mind on food, he asked the two strays, “Do you guys know where I can get something to eat?” Pinky shook his head, “No!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know who you are! You can find your own food...” Pinky paused and snickered. “You can eat him,” he said directing toward Nut. Candypoo didn’t say anything right away. He wasn’t quite sure he understood. “What?” he asked stupidly. Candypoo shook it off and looked brightly at the two cats before him. “What are your names?” he asked. Pinky scowled. “I’m Pinky and He’s Nut. You gotta name?”
“I’m Candypoo,” he told them. It struck Candypoo that it was getting late. “I’d better get home!” he told Pinky and Nut. “Uh, okay...” Pinky said.
“Don’t worry! I’ll be back soon!”
Candypoo ran to the place he lived. It was a nice quant house. A man opened the door and let him inside. The man’s wife walked up to Candypoo and smiled at him softly. Candypoo looked up at her sadly. “Aw, what’s wrong, Candypoo?” the woman bent down and picked Candypoo up. She commenced to rub his belly. “Poor, Candypoo,” the woman said sweetly.
Ooh, I have more!
Nightcat
One night in New York I was seen again. The Nightcat is my name. Why are you named Nightcat you may ask? I’m a cat and I’m only seen at night. Well, here’s my story... One night I was walking down the street, a blue-gray cat came down the street. The cat looked at me and started to run toward me “Hi! Hi!” The cat said. “Umm, do I know you?” I asked. “No! But I know you! You’re the Nightcat!” the cat yelled. I sighed, “Ugh. Who are you?” “I’m Pretty kitty! But you can call me Pretty!” Pretty said. She looked so happy. “Okay Pretty,” I said. “I have to find something to eat,” I said “Hmm, Okay!” Pretty said. “Good night, Nightcat! He, he!” Pretty said.
message 587:
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Sam~~ we cannot see the moon, and yet the waves still rise~~
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Maxy wrote: "So my brother wrote this story called Michael Jackson and the Beanstalk when he was younger... Comedy gold, man. I'll have to type it up and do a dramatic reading."OH MY GOODNESS I NEED TO READ THIS NOW.
I'm going to their house tomorrow. I'll try to make sure my brother gives it to me and I'll get to work. XD
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Sam~~ we cannot see the moon, and yet the waves still rise~~
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YESS! hahah i'm so excited for this. XD
I am also excited for this toooooooo.....
I wrote this when I was in second grade. I can't believe that the guard was stupid enough to believe Isabel and not need ANY identification!!!!There was once a princess who lived on top of the hill in Scalawag. She was poor so she kept her life a secret. Not even friendly Lory had met this strange Princess. But one day, a royal invitation arrived at her door. The sixteen year old Princess could hardly believe her eyes as she read the letter. Someone had invited her to a royal party! Princess Isabel suspected it was the annual Scalawag Castle party, but that happened in May. Then she made up her mind: she was going to the party. Isabel wanted to look nice, so she decided to go to the Second-hand dress shop. “Good,” she said. “I’ll get this $2 shirtdress.” She paid the cashier and walked out. Everyone stared at Isabel because she reminded them of her mother, Queen Elizabeth. Soon, Isabel became the talk of the town. When Isabel entered the royal castle, the guard asked Isabel her name. Isabel took a deep breath and said, “My name is Princess Isabella Rose of London Bridge Avenue.” The guard shrieked and brought Isabel to Queen Jannie III. “This is Liz’s only daughter who has been missing for 14 years since she died.” “Queen Jannie nodded and took my hand,” Isabel recalled. “I still remember and I always will.”
Also: “This is Liz’s only daughter who has been missing for 14 years since she died.” since Liz died? or since her daughter died? wut. i'm confused by my own writing. D:
Not fiction. Whatever. This was from when in first grade we had to write these 'journals' saying what we did on the weekend. The journals were half a page long with a huge box on top for a picture and really big lines haha in kindergarten we only had to write postit notes.xx
Universal Studio
By Dana C, aged 7 (Without corrections)
I recently went to Universal Studio. I problely told you this in my weekend news but, in case you forgot, I’m gonna tell you again. I loved the ride “Cat in the Hat” in the Dr. Seuss area. Oh, now do you remember? Well, I’m gonna tell you a little more detail. So back to the Dr. Seuss conversation. Then, that night, something cool happened. We saw one student and his wife that used to be one of my dad’s students. They had kids, but, the boys were smaller than me. So, my mom bought them two light up Spongebob squarepants toys. Also, they were twins. When we met, they wanted to go on the fishy ride. I wanted to ride the fishy ride again. So, I asked my parents if I could ride the fishy ride. They said yes, so, I asked if my dad could come on the ride with me. She said “yes.” But, my dad didn’t notice that the fishy ride had water spitting out of all of the fish. So, we all got wet. We told them about the “Cat in the Hat” ride. They thought the ride seemed pretty interesting. And, I wanted to ride that ride a jillion times! By the time that we were done with that ride, it was late. But, one of the twins Spongebob toy broke. So, my mom went to the store and returned the broken one and exchanged for a new one. Then, the next morning, my family were packed up and ready to go. So, we rode the water taxi and got to the airport.
BRIGID I WANNA READ MORE OF THE HAPPY RAISINi just like the title of the collection. it sounds so poetic or something. and really reminds me of "the happy farmer".
I remember, in the 7th grade, we had a project to write a mystery or fantasy story. The idea I chose was one that I was planning for about a year before it. It was kind of a cross between Avatar: The Last Airbender and Harry Potter, where there were 5 powers; the 4 natural elements and a sort of dark magic element. Most with the dark magic go bad, and my main character, orphaned and with horrible caretakers, had that power and goes to a boarding school to hone her skill, and prove a prophecy wrong. Now that I write this, I realize just how similar the 1st book would be.The best part is that I wrote over 50 pages for it, then rewrote it because I excluded parts that I felt were too violent to be written by a 13-year-old. The rewrite was 150 pages or more, and I wrote most of it in November. I had no idea NaNoWriMo existed, yet I'm sure I in officially won that year.
Sadly, I chucked it in the trash after realizing that it was 1) turning into the Harry Potter series, and 2) I had so much pointless filler that gave nothing to the plot. I still have pages of notes though, and I'd like to try if again sometime in the future.
Dana ~tears in my eyes but not down my face~ wrote: "Not fiction. Whatever. This was from when in first grade we had to write these 'journals' saying what we did on the weekend. The journals were half a page long with a huge box on top for a picture ..."Little kids journals are always amusing
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Sam~~ we cannot see the moon, and yet the waves still rise~~
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Dana ~tears in my eyes but not down my face~ wrote: "Not fiction. Whatever. This was from when in first grade we had to write these 'journals' saying what we did on the weekend. The journals were half a page long with a huge box on top for a picture ..."DANAAAA I KNOW YOUR LAST NAME NOW.
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Brigid ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
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i just like the title of the collection. it sounds so poetic or something. and really reminds me of "the happy farmer"."
Haha! Maybe I can find some other good parts of it ... :P
Sam~ on sleepless roads the sleepless go~ wrote: "Dana ~tears in my eyes but not down my face~ wrote: "Not fiction. Whatever. This was from when in first grade we had to write these 'journals' saying what we did on the weekend. The journals were h..."Do you? AGHHH IM EDITING THAT OFF
There is something strange about Mr. Smith. I can’t really put my finger on it . . . maybe it’s the way he talks to his salad. Maybe it’s how he wears his pants on his head, and his dentures around his neck. It’s possible that he seems kind of queer because his skin is spray-painted a different color each day. Maybe it’s because he never teaches us anything worth the time that we take to learn it . . . how to look at a bear and tell if he has pooped in the last hour, how to survive if you were ever caught in a giant wad of gum, how to properly wipe your nose (which he does all the time), how to tell if a unicorn likes carrots, and much more.
It was Friday and I was in Mr. Smith’s Useless Information class (I don’t really know what class he teaches, but it sure wasn’t anything I knew of), and I was falling asleep as Mr. Smith (wearing booger green spray paint today) droned on about green shirts and how they affect reindeer, or something like that. My friend Rebecca rolled her eyes as Mr. Smith threw himself across our table.
Mr. Smith had an extra large room, just so he could teach everyone in the grade all at once. Maybe so he could torture us all at once.
My lucky friends Brynn and Maggie were not in the classroom at the moment because of . . . I don’t know.
“Yellow affects iguanas because of the movie Alice in Wonderland!” he shouted.
One of my other friends, Karli (an amazing actress), got up to sharpen her pencil and screamed as Mr. Smith tackled her, then bit the pencil sharpener.
“Here we go.” I muttered. I was ready for a stressful class.
Mr. Smith had obviously heard me. “THAT IS INCORRECT!!!” He yelled to a piece of chalk. “What she means is, HERE WE STOP!!! WE ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!!! Except your next class. LEEEEEAAAAAAAAVE!!! NOW!”
It reminded me of the time we went to the mental institution to hand out cookies in second grade. We were in second grade, so we were petrified of the lunatics that Mr. Smith so obviously needed to be with.
My friend Lucca (who looks very shy but, as you will see, isn’t) said “This class started a minute ago, Mr. Smith. You can’t make us leave now.”
“I do what I want, Ms. Belly.” he growled.
Some people in the class dared a laugh, but most were stone-faced. We all know about Mr. Smith’s terrible temper that would spring out at us like a Jack-in-the-box. Like Mad-Eye-Moody in Harry Potter: “Constant vigilance!”
“It’s Abele. UH-BELL-EE!” said Rebecca.
“I don’t care, Vandenburger. Ha! More like cheeseburger! Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger!” the evil teacher yelled.
I got so angry, I felt like I was on fire. I wanted to scream and punch and kick. What Mr. Smith didn’t understand was that no one hurts my friends. I had had enough.“It’s Vandenbergh, thank you very much!” I yelled angrily, standing up. Then I cringed, and sat down. Mr. Smith really liked handing out detentions.
“I DON’T CARE, FREAKY!!!That’s right! I’ve always thought you were a freaky little girl!” He screamed.
“Her last name is Francke. FRANK-EE!” Shouted Karli.
“LEAVE ME ALONE, RIBBITSIN GIRL!!!” He started sobbing hysterically.
If looks could kill, we wouldn’t have a problem with our evil teacher in the first place. “I am not a frog. My last name is Robertson.” Karli said quite calmly. Then she picked up her purple binder and left.
Now you see how stressful Mr. Smith’s classes are. We have them EVERY DAY. We will all be happy when this year is over.