Well, it's that time of the year and in Advanced English we are reading Robert Cormier, one of the greatest writers of young adult novels (in my humble opinion!) This post, is unlike the others in that the essence of it is really hidden in the comments part of this post. As we are enjoying our third winter storm of the year and reading I Am the Cheese, we tried our hand at imitating Robert Cormiers style by using absolute phrases to zero in on some tiny detail within a scene. In the comments, the absolute phrases are marked with italics. An absolute phrase combines a noun and a participial form of a verb ("ed" or "ing" suffix) to zoom in and examine a piece of the whole. Click on the "Comments" link on the bottom of this post to see how something as simple as a tiny phrase can have a profound effect on our writing.
P.S. If Cormier has captured your attention, try reading The Chocolate War and The Rag and Bone Shop. Both are simply wonderful.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Mini-Metaphor poems
Some of these poems are inspired by characters we are reading about in Things Not Seen, others are inspired by our own experiences, but all of them say so much with so little. These poems emphasize the power of metaphor. The first one is by Chris, the other three are anonymous.
I am a book
with a cover
that does not interest you.
Like wind, you cannot see me,
but feel.
I am a dress,
pretty, beautiful,
used once,
then thrown away
in a closet.
I am alone.
I am fire.
I scorch whomever
tries to love me.
I burn and turn
until there is no one left.
I am a dark room,
mysterious and luminous.
Never will you know
what lies inside.
I am a book
with a cover
that does not interest you.
Like wind, you cannot see me,
but feel.
I am a dress,
pretty, beautiful,
used once,
then thrown away
in a closet.
I am alone.
I am fire.
I scorch whomever
tries to love me.
I burn and turn
until there is no one left.
I am a dark room,
mysterious and luminous.
Never will you know
what lies inside.
Monday, December 22, 2008
One Great Poem Inspires Another
In the March 21, 2005, Linda Gregg published a poem called "Whomever" in the New Yorker magazine. It haunted me. It told about a homeless person in Penn Station who tried, but failed, to be "invisible." Since we are studying a book about invisibility right now, I thought we could take the pattern Linda Gregg created grammatically and adapt it to write about something new, some other person who is figuratively "invisible."
Mark's poem is about just such a person; I won't ruin the surprise, since I think it speaks for itself. And to Linda Gregg, if you ever read this post, forgive us our "borrowing." We learn from the best!
You are not out yet.
I saw you again this mourning in your baggy pants.
In between bars,
Thick, rusty, hard.
Dressed in orange, black and white
With tears, sadness, and fear in your eyes
Locked up, but not as far away as you want.
I dont know what to think.
I'm glad to be here with you
I think there is a dark side to you.
Other times I think you are a great guy.
Always it is pity,
A bucket full of pity.
Never having a life with your family.
Mark's poem is about just such a person; I won't ruin the surprise, since I think it speaks for itself. And to Linda Gregg, if you ever read this post, forgive us our "borrowing." We learn from the best!
You are not out yet.
I saw you again this mourning in your baggy pants.
In between bars,
Thick, rusty, hard.
Dressed in orange, black and white
With tears, sadness, and fear in your eyes
Locked up, but not as far away as you want.
I dont know what to think.
I'm glad to be here with you
I think there is a dark side to you.
Other times I think you are a great guy.
Always it is pity,
A bucket full of pity.
Never having a life with your family.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Mr. V's Authorial Debut
OK, so the secret is out. I've been working on a book. This is only Chapter 4, or at least pieces of it, and that's as far as I've gotten. I hope it won't be too confusing, even though it refers to specific scenes from chapter 1-3. The narrator is a sixteen-year-old-boy who is off from school for the summer. He had to move way out in the booneys due to his parents' sudden divorce. A distant cousin of his mother set them up with a man named Jackson Knoll, a man they've never met, who is providing lodging and a job for them both in a country convenience store. The only other employee of the store is Jen.
Please leave me comments! This is only a rough draft with plenty of errors and room for improvement, but I hope it creates a bit of intrigue about some of the weird things going on in the tiny town of Pleasant Valley. Enjoy!
Chapter 4
The first time I saw the helicopter, it was just after sunset. I’m not really sure where it came from, but I heard it, hovering over our apartment like a curious insect.
“Well, that I didn’t expect to see,” I muttered.
“What was that honey?” my mom called from the kitchen sink, where running water must have obscured her hearing.
“Nothing,” I told her, leaning up against the cold glass, watching it disappear into the gray dusk. It’s twinkling light drew back into the darkness like a star, and just beyond a forested hill, sank slowly into the fabric of the land. And that was it.
Until I caught the same sound again two days later. This time it was midday and I was restocking Ding Dongs in the store. An old lady in a hat was pondering the tabloids and talking to herself, clicking her tongue in disdain.
“Is there a hospital nearby?” I asked.
She looked up at me inquisitively and then over her shoulder as if to check if I was speaking to her. “No,” she finally replied, turning back to the tabloids.
“It’s just . . .” She looked at me over her glasses as I spoke. “It’s the second time I’ve heard that helicopter this week and it seems strange that one would fly over here unless it was a MediVac or something.”
No response.
“Excuse me,” I said, ducking into the back room and out the rear exit.
The strange, gray bird was following the same path it had two days earlier, predetermined, resolute, growing smaller and smaller until it fell out of sight in the same distant stand of trees. I stood, hands on my hips, staring after it.
I forgot to ask Jen that afternoon. There was something about her that could make you forget anything. Her sharp, bright eyes and wide gleaming smile.
“Did you know that Mr. Knoll lets us steal a candybar each break? “
“Lets you steal?”
“Yeah, kind of funny, huh? I guess it’s not really stealing then, but it still feels kind of fun.” She strolled over to the candybar rack. “My favorite is Three Musketeers. It’s like eating a chocolate cloud.”
“Awh, c’mon! Snickers is so much better. Peanuts, caramel. Who can resist that?” She reached for one and slipped back behind the counter.
“Someone who wants to keep her girlish figure,” she joked. Then, more seriously she added, “Y’know, funny thing about Mr. Knoll is that if anyone other than an employee on break steals a candybar, there’s hell to pay. Once, this guy was passing through, middle aged, sports coat, not exactly your shoplifting type, and sure enough, camera caught him snagging a Snickers bar. Knoll got the guy put in jail. I mean, literally. Thirty days, maximum sentence.”
“Wait, you mean he’s got cameras in this place?”
“Sure – behind those mirrors in the corners – that’s one-way glass.”
“Really? Way out here? But where are the monitors?”
“Oh, I don’t think there are any. Just recordings of everything that goes on in here.” Suddenly, she leaned forward, changing her tone. “Although, I have wondered whether Jackson Knoll sits in a cellar somewhere, watching us like a cat, like everything in here is some bizarre reality TV show.” She leaned in close, so close, I felt her breath. “And we are the cast.” She drew back, nodding somberly.
A second later, the line of her mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “I wish you could see your face!” She started to laugh. “You look like you swallowed a bug!”
“I – I knew you were joking,” I said, sagging my shoulders and averting her gaze. “He wouldn’t have cameras in a hick-town convenience store like this.”
“Oh, I wasn’t kidding about that part,” she said, handing me a Snickers. “There are cameras, all right. Thirty days. The guy went to jail.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be honest, it was tough to understand how the place stayed in business. The gas was the most expensive place I’ve ever seen, and only two or three cars would drop in before lunch and maybe five or six on there way home from work. Mom and I never did accounting. An armored truck pulled up in the middle of the night, and they had their own key to the store and the cash register. All we had to do was lock up and walk upstairs to our apartment. We figured we only made about a hundred dollars a day, certainly not much more than that, which would cover only the employees wages. So how was Jackson Knoll paying for the electric, the stock, the taxes . . . the whole thing seemed a little fishy, though nothing was as strange as the man himself.
Ther was a picture of him, from the seventies,w ith a mustache and bushy sideburns, that hung behind the counter, sunbleached and cracking. The little engraved panel on the frame said “Jackson Knoll, Proprietor.” He didn’t really look like a man who would get rich selling Twinkies and travel he world someday, but apparently he’d surprised the people of Pleasant Valley, rising above and beyond their modest expectations.
One day, she came back again. It was the lady with the flipped up curls, driving the blue Lincoln. Same lady. Same car. I swear.
“Good morning,” I said, stepping into the morning sun.
She didn’t reply, but a credit card magically appeared between two of her fingers. She chewed her gum methodically and said, “Fill ‘er up.”
This was the second time I couldn’t quite make out the man sitting in the passenger seat. I was standing next to the car, and he was pretty tall, so all I could see was his blue jeans and his hairy arms. There was blonde hair on his arms, almost white, and lots of it. The gasoline slowly chugged into the car, then stopped abruptly after three gallons. It was full. I swiped the card.
“How’s your father? Feeling better?” I asked turing the card back to her slim fingers and pointed nails.
“Excuse me?” she said, lifting her lip and eyebrow into something between puzzlement and a sneer.
“I mean, your father, the other night. You seemed really worried about him. Is he OK?” I stammered. The man in the passenger seat said something under his breath.
“My father,” the woman said, staring ahead and starting her car, “my father has been dead since before you were born.” And with that, she sped off, leaving my thoughts spinning.
Please leave me comments! This is only a rough draft with plenty of errors and room for improvement, but I hope it creates a bit of intrigue about some of the weird things going on in the tiny town of Pleasant Valley. Enjoy!
Chapter 4
The first time I saw the helicopter, it was just after sunset. I’m not really sure where it came from, but I heard it, hovering over our apartment like a curious insect.
“Well, that I didn’t expect to see,” I muttered.
“What was that honey?” my mom called from the kitchen sink, where running water must have obscured her hearing.
“Nothing,” I told her, leaning up against the cold glass, watching it disappear into the gray dusk. It’s twinkling light drew back into the darkness like a star, and just beyond a forested hill, sank slowly into the fabric of the land. And that was it.
Until I caught the same sound again two days later. This time it was midday and I was restocking Ding Dongs in the store. An old lady in a hat was pondering the tabloids and talking to herself, clicking her tongue in disdain.
“Is there a hospital nearby?” I asked.
She looked up at me inquisitively and then over her shoulder as if to check if I was speaking to her. “No,” she finally replied, turning back to the tabloids.
“It’s just . . .” She looked at me over her glasses as I spoke. “It’s the second time I’ve heard that helicopter this week and it seems strange that one would fly over here unless it was a MediVac or something.”
No response.
“Excuse me,” I said, ducking into the back room and out the rear exit.
The strange, gray bird was following the same path it had two days earlier, predetermined, resolute, growing smaller and smaller until it fell out of sight in the same distant stand of trees. I stood, hands on my hips, staring after it.
I forgot to ask Jen that afternoon. There was something about her that could make you forget anything. Her sharp, bright eyes and wide gleaming smile.
“Did you know that Mr. Knoll lets us steal a candybar each break? “
“Lets you steal?”
“Yeah, kind of funny, huh? I guess it’s not really stealing then, but it still feels kind of fun.” She strolled over to the candybar rack. “My favorite is Three Musketeers. It’s like eating a chocolate cloud.”
“Awh, c’mon! Snickers is so much better. Peanuts, caramel. Who can resist that?” She reached for one and slipped back behind the counter.
“Someone who wants to keep her girlish figure,” she joked. Then, more seriously she added, “Y’know, funny thing about Mr. Knoll is that if anyone other than an employee on break steals a candybar, there’s hell to pay. Once, this guy was passing through, middle aged, sports coat, not exactly your shoplifting type, and sure enough, camera caught him snagging a Snickers bar. Knoll got the guy put in jail. I mean, literally. Thirty days, maximum sentence.”
“Wait, you mean he’s got cameras in this place?”
“Sure – behind those mirrors in the corners – that’s one-way glass.”
“Really? Way out here? But where are the monitors?”
“Oh, I don’t think there are any. Just recordings of everything that goes on in here.” Suddenly, she leaned forward, changing her tone. “Although, I have wondered whether Jackson Knoll sits in a cellar somewhere, watching us like a cat, like everything in here is some bizarre reality TV show.” She leaned in close, so close, I felt her breath. “And we are the cast.” She drew back, nodding somberly.
A second later, the line of her mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “I wish you could see your face!” She started to laugh. “You look like you swallowed a bug!”
“I – I knew you were joking,” I said, sagging my shoulders and averting her gaze. “He wouldn’t have cameras in a hick-town convenience store like this.”
“Oh, I wasn’t kidding about that part,” she said, handing me a Snickers. “There are cameras, all right. Thirty days. The guy went to jail.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be honest, it was tough to understand how the place stayed in business. The gas was the most expensive place I’ve ever seen, and only two or three cars would drop in before lunch and maybe five or six on there way home from work. Mom and I never did accounting. An armored truck pulled up in the middle of the night, and they had their own key to the store and the cash register. All we had to do was lock up and walk upstairs to our apartment. We figured we only made about a hundred dollars a day, certainly not much more than that, which would cover only the employees wages. So how was Jackson Knoll paying for the electric, the stock, the taxes . . . the whole thing seemed a little fishy, though nothing was as strange as the man himself.
Ther was a picture of him, from the seventies,w ith a mustache and bushy sideburns, that hung behind the counter, sunbleached and cracking. The little engraved panel on the frame said “Jackson Knoll, Proprietor.” He didn’t really look like a man who would get rich selling Twinkies and travel he world someday, but apparently he’d surprised the people of Pleasant Valley, rising above and beyond their modest expectations.
One day, she came back again. It was the lady with the flipped up curls, driving the blue Lincoln. Same lady. Same car. I swear.
“Good morning,” I said, stepping into the morning sun.
She didn’t reply, but a credit card magically appeared between two of her fingers. She chewed her gum methodically and said, “Fill ‘er up.”
This was the second time I couldn’t quite make out the man sitting in the passenger seat. I was standing next to the car, and he was pretty tall, so all I could see was his blue jeans and his hairy arms. There was blonde hair on his arms, almost white, and lots of it. The gasoline slowly chugged into the car, then stopped abruptly after three gallons. It was full. I swiped the card.
“How’s your father? Feeling better?” I asked turing the card back to her slim fingers and pointed nails.
“Excuse me?” she said, lifting her lip and eyebrow into something between puzzlement and a sneer.
“I mean, your father, the other night. You seemed really worried about him. Is he OK?” I stammered. The man in the passenger seat said something under his breath.
“My father,” the woman said, staring ahead and starting her car, “my father has been dead since before you were born.” And with that, she sped off, leaving my thoughts spinning.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Oh, The Humiliation!
Sometimes, an embarrassing or painful moment can be the richest source material for writers. This excerpt from Cody's memoir proves how true this is. The voice in this piece is exceptional; if you know Cody, you feel like you are listening to him tell it! OH, and by the way, the English class scene did not take place in English class, and I am not the teacher . . .
I poked my neck in the room and my English teacher shot a stern look back at me. That was quite the awkward moment. I walked in with my head hung low.
“You’re late.” The cold, harsh voice was one that always made me very nervous.
“I-I know” I stammered. “I slept through my alarm and I ran to try to get here in time.”
“I don’t need to hear your excuses. If you ran you would have been here on time. Have a seat.” I sat down and slowly sunk into my chair lower and lower. He spoke up again, “Today we will be learning grammar, and common mistakes that are made while trying to use it properly.”
He passed out worksheets to everybody and when he came to me he paused. He bent down and got closer to me. “You have a D- in my class Mr. Hutkin. Small things like being late are unacceptable.” I nodded.
As much as I would like to explain why I was late, apparently he didn’t want to hear my excuses. I didn’t like him. He was my least favorite teacher. So many words mixed in my head of what I wanted to reply. I filtered them and came out with; “Yes sir.” I somehow made it until the end of the day.
Later that night after I had finished my homework, I decided I needed to take my shower. It was about 9:00. I emptied my pockets and put the contents on my bed: a crumpled piece of paper, at least 7 pencils, and my phone. I pulled my pants down. But it’s okay, I had boxers on. I sat on my bed so I could get the pants off of my ankles when I felt a surging pain rush up to the right side of my butt. My legs sprung up and I saw blood all over them. I felt like I had mooned a javelin thrower. I turned around to see a pencil sticking straight out. Half of it was inside of my body. My mom walked past my door and did a double take. Who could blame her? She saw a thirteen year old boy, blood dripping down legs, in underwear, pants at ankles, and pencil in butt. She said something that blew my mind.
“Maybe if your room wasn’t so messy, that wouldn’t have happened.” I was expecting something like. “Are you okay?” or maybe, “Let me help you out.” Instead I get a comment on the style of my room.
Looking back I must admit it is humorous. Of course while it was happening it wasn’t. That same pencil is actually still on my nightstand. The nickname “princess” wore off after about a month. At night some people check for bugs, I check for pencils. I must say, that was one big splinter.
I poked my neck in the room and my English teacher shot a stern look back at me. That was quite the awkward moment. I walked in with my head hung low.
“You’re late.” The cold, harsh voice was one that always made me very nervous.
“I-I know” I stammered. “I slept through my alarm and I ran to try to get here in time.”
“I don’t need to hear your excuses. If you ran you would have been here on time. Have a seat.” I sat down and slowly sunk into my chair lower and lower. He spoke up again, “Today we will be learning grammar, and common mistakes that are made while trying to use it properly.”
He passed out worksheets to everybody and when he came to me he paused. He bent down and got closer to me. “You have a D- in my class Mr. Hutkin. Small things like being late are unacceptable.” I nodded.
As much as I would like to explain why I was late, apparently he didn’t want to hear my excuses. I didn’t like him. He was my least favorite teacher. So many words mixed in my head of what I wanted to reply. I filtered them and came out with; “Yes sir.” I somehow made it until the end of the day.
Later that night after I had finished my homework, I decided I needed to take my shower. It was about 9:00. I emptied my pockets and put the contents on my bed: a crumpled piece of paper, at least 7 pencils, and my phone. I pulled my pants down. But it’s okay, I had boxers on. I sat on my bed so I could get the pants off of my ankles when I felt a surging pain rush up to the right side of my butt. My legs sprung up and I saw blood all over them. I felt like I had mooned a javelin thrower. I turned around to see a pencil sticking straight out. Half of it was inside of my body. My mom walked past my door and did a double take. Who could blame her? She saw a thirteen year old boy, blood dripping down legs, in underwear, pants at ankles, and pencil in butt. She said something that blew my mind.
“Maybe if your room wasn’t so messy, that wouldn’t have happened.” I was expecting something like. “Are you okay?” or maybe, “Let me help you out.” Instead I get a comment on the style of my room.
Looking back I must admit it is humorous. Of course while it was happening it wasn’t. That same pencil is actually still on my nightstand. The nickname “princess” wore off after about a month. At night some people check for bugs, I check for pencils. I must say, that was one big splinter.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Horror (or at least Hyperbole!)
Do you remember those early trips to the dentist as a child, when you were never sure if you were going to make it out alive? Andrew captures these moments well in his humorous memoir. I love how he builds in elements of the horror genre to write about the dentist. It's a perfect extended hyperbole. (P. S. Sorry I can't figure out how to make blogger indent the paragraphs. Weird, huh?)
Imagine being forced into a small colorless room where a man approaches you with a long needle, a large pair of pliers, and you have nowhere to run or hide. This is my story.
It all began on a beautiful sunny day as my Mom drove me through our little town that I knew so well. It was grocery day, the day my brother and I loaded into our SUV with its hot, sticky, leather seats. The sun scorched our car and us like toast in an oven as we headed towards Wegman’s grocery store to stock up on food for the upcoming week. This day seemed strangely different from the rest of the times we had gone grocery shopping; I could just feel something was wrong. It wasn’t until our car pulled up to the large white building with a giant ceramic tooth out front that I realized I was at none other than a child- killing dentist’s office!
I stared at my Mom with my big round blue eyes and begged her not to make me enter that wretched building, but it was no use. After several minutes, which seemed like hours of lecturing from her about how nice the dentist was, I was physically dragged and forced into the all white dungeon. I made my way into a cold room that contained what looked like to me like torture tools hanging on the cold, lifeless walls. I was then directed to a bed-like chair by a pretty woman with an evil smile on her face and breath that smelled like baloney and putrid cheese. She told me to lie down on the stiff, cot-like chair that felt as if I was lying on a rock. I had no doubt she too was in on the plot to kill me, along with my Mom and the dentist. Then a large light beamed down at me from just above my head. My frail, squinting eyes made me feel as if I was a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Just when I was sure things couldn’t get any worse, I heard footsteps moving towards me. I saw a tall figure in a white coat approach me holding a needle the size of my arm, and as skinny and sharp as a point on a barbed wire fence. Then he leaned over and stuck the long pointy needle deep inside of my mouth as excruciating pain shot all around my jaw and face. Then all of a sudden, the pain stopped and my mouth felt numb. Just when I thought the guy wasn’t going to actually slaughter me, he took a weird looking pair of pliers and jammed them into my mouth. I could taste hand sanitizer on his powerful, small fingers. Next I heard a pop as I gazed at the tooth that shot out of my mouth along with the dentist’s cold strong hands and a pair of blood soaked metal pliers from my numb and all together petrified mouth. I stared the tooth down for a moment, just to let it know that it was the reason for all the ruckus and pain today. It did not care; it just stared back up at me with its white lifeless eye. Then the colorless tall white figure finally spoke, and said, “All right, you’re good to go.”
“That’s it? but I thought you were going to kill me!” I said.
“Yeah, that’s what all the kids think, but I’m really not that bad of a guy. I just happen to have the job most hated by children,” said the dentist.
“You know what, you are a good guy and dentist, that wasn’t that bad. I will tell the rest of the kids at school too”, I said.
“Thanks kid, have a good one, and I’ll see you at your next checkup” said the dentist with a smile.
“All right. Bye and thank you,” I exclaimed. And as I left the office and drove home I felt bad that I had said all those crummy things about the dentist. He ended up being okay after all.
This experience made my dentist visits a lot less scary and even slightly enjoyable at times. This routine visit to the dentist also taught me not to judge a book by its cover. In my particular case, the so-called killer dentist ended up being a really cool, nice guy. After the entire dentist experience, I look back upon it today and realize it wasn’t all that bad. When the day was done at the dentist’s office, I ended up with a free toothbrush and milkshakes for the rest of the week to help sooth my sore mouth. Not a bad trade.
Imagine being forced into a small colorless room where a man approaches you with a long needle, a large pair of pliers, and you have nowhere to run or hide. This is my story.
It all began on a beautiful sunny day as my Mom drove me through our little town that I knew so well. It was grocery day, the day my brother and I loaded into our SUV with its hot, sticky, leather seats. The sun scorched our car and us like toast in an oven as we headed towards Wegman’s grocery store to stock up on food for the upcoming week. This day seemed strangely different from the rest of the times we had gone grocery shopping; I could just feel something was wrong. It wasn’t until our car pulled up to the large white building with a giant ceramic tooth out front that I realized I was at none other than a child- killing dentist’s office!
I stared at my Mom with my big round blue eyes and begged her not to make me enter that wretched building, but it was no use. After several minutes, which seemed like hours of lecturing from her about how nice the dentist was, I was physically dragged and forced into the all white dungeon. I made my way into a cold room that contained what looked like to me like torture tools hanging on the cold, lifeless walls. I was then directed to a bed-like chair by a pretty woman with an evil smile on her face and breath that smelled like baloney and putrid cheese. She told me to lie down on the stiff, cot-like chair that felt as if I was lying on a rock. I had no doubt she too was in on the plot to kill me, along with my Mom and the dentist. Then a large light beamed down at me from just above my head. My frail, squinting eyes made me feel as if I was a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Just when I was sure things couldn’t get any worse, I heard footsteps moving towards me. I saw a tall figure in a white coat approach me holding a needle the size of my arm, and as skinny and sharp as a point on a barbed wire fence. Then he leaned over and stuck the long pointy needle deep inside of my mouth as excruciating pain shot all around my jaw and face. Then all of a sudden, the pain stopped and my mouth felt numb. Just when I thought the guy wasn’t going to actually slaughter me, he took a weird looking pair of pliers and jammed them into my mouth. I could taste hand sanitizer on his powerful, small fingers. Next I heard a pop as I gazed at the tooth that shot out of my mouth along with the dentist’s cold strong hands and a pair of blood soaked metal pliers from my numb and all together petrified mouth. I stared the tooth down for a moment, just to let it know that it was the reason for all the ruckus and pain today. It did not care; it just stared back up at me with its white lifeless eye. Then the colorless tall white figure finally spoke, and said, “All right, you’re good to go.”
“That’s it? but I thought you were going to kill me!” I said.
“Yeah, that’s what all the kids think, but I’m really not that bad of a guy. I just happen to have the job most hated by children,” said the dentist.
“You know what, you are a good guy and dentist, that wasn’t that bad. I will tell the rest of the kids at school too”, I said.
“Thanks kid, have a good one, and I’ll see you at your next checkup” said the dentist with a smile.
“All right. Bye and thank you,” I exclaimed. And as I left the office and drove home I felt bad that I had said all those crummy things about the dentist. He ended up being okay after all.
This experience made my dentist visits a lot less scary and even slightly enjoyable at times. This routine visit to the dentist also taught me not to judge a book by its cover. In my particular case, the so-called killer dentist ended up being a really cool, nice guy. After the entire dentist experience, I look back upon it today and realize it wasn’t all that bad. When the day was done at the dentist’s office, I ended up with a free toothbrush and milkshakes for the rest of the week to help sooth my sore mouth. Not a bad trade.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
On the Lighter Side
So as everyone knows by now, we've been working on humorous memoirs in class. In this memoir, Emily does an amazing job of capturing the mind of a three-year-old version of herself while maintaining the voice of an advanced (and maybe even a bit cynical?) writer. I love how she strings the idea of the baby as "an evil alien" throughout the memoir. This extended hyperbole takes the piece to a whole new level! (Perhaps if you have read The Pearl, you will even recognize the line that she borrows from Steinbeck to inspire the whole story!)
Alien Baby
The morning was dark and damp, with grave clouds looming over the sun, threatening to engulf it. I woke up in my small pink bedroom and glared at the ballerinas that danced over my head and on my ceiling. Silently, I slipped out of bed and peered down the hallway. No one stirred and my mind raced with excitement because I could secretly watch Barney and Friends. I crept down the stairs on my small feet, eyeing the small baskets that were piled high with mountains of green and pink colored hay and half eaten chocolate rabbits.
“Hi Emmy,” came my dad’s voice, startling me from the side.
“Today, we are going to the hospital to meet your new baby sister.” He said those words with an edge of enthusiasm, and I wasn’t sure why. Slowly, I nodded my head, still slightly puzzled.
“Well, let’s get ready to go, your brother is already up.” My brother, Julian, stumbled out from my parent’s room looking half awake but already very alert.
I dressed in my favorite blue flowered dress because I knew this could very well be my last day with happiness. Julian and I were both reluctant as we dragged our bodies into the small car and into our booster seats.
When the engine was rumbling and the heat started to warm our cold toes and hands, I whispered, “We must stay strong; this thing is evil. It will destroy us.” In response, Julian nodded his head and stuck his thumb back in his mouth. I sat there for some time biting on my old pacifier that should have been taken away years ago, and thought about how much I hated this new alien I would soon meet. Before I could have more unpleasant thoughts, my heavy eyelids won over and I drifted into a deep sleep filled with evil alien babies and more of my worst nightmares.
When I finally woke up, we were at an enormous, cold, stone building. We were led into a room that smelled like old people and crackers as I fought to catch up with my dad and brother. Finally I saw my mom and smiled the big grin that always made me get my way. Maybe, I thought, if I really fought she could throw away the alien baby and we could all be happy.
I was pulled out of my imagination when my dad announced, “Meet your new sister, Evelyn Frances.” My mother smiled, although I could see how exhausted she was, and stroked what appeared to be my baby doll. I just stood in the doorway with disapproval, my three year old hand on my hip. My mother beckoned me and my brother to come closer so we walked over to see the alien. I reached out to touch its obviously inhuman hands, and the thing cringed away when I did. I was suddenly very perplexed. I examined its little bald head and tiny features that seemed so fragile a single touch could shatter its miniature bones. Cleverly, I reached out and stroked its pudgy face, and instantly regretted it when my hand was covered in wet, sticky drool.
“Does it have a little brain?” I asked unsure of the answer myself. My mother laughed lightly.
“Of course it does, it’s just like you only smaller. “ Now I was mad. This thing was not like me and definitely not part of our family.
I opened my mouth to protest, but then Julian asked, “Can I hold her?” I was utterly confused. We had had an agreement and now he wanted to hold this creature?
“Yes, but you have to be very careful.” My mother cautiously handed it to Julian. My dad came from behind me and stroked my back.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Was everyone crazy? Now it had become all too clear to me that I would have to take her down myself.
A few days later my mother came home with the thing. I was very upset because she hadn’t just disposed of the thing. The alien had on little blue socks and a matching hat. It looked so pleasant in my mother’s arms that I knew one day it would be the end of us all. My mother set the alien in the middle of more toys than I could count when I learned to count. I plopped down next to it and examined every move, every gurgle, and every burp. I looked at the toys in longing to play one or at least touch them. I waited to see if this new creature was at least polite. The selfish thing did not offer me any of its many toys so, unsatisfied, I walked away. I was hurt, confused, but most of all, vengeful.
I woke up, frazzled and tired, because the alien had cried the whole night, allowing me no sleep at all. Before I tiptoed down the stairs, I grabbed my McDonald’s spy kit I had gotten yesterday. I took out the binoculars and scoped out the living room for the alien. Just as I had suspected, it was peacefully rocking back and forth in its little cradle. I sang low and whispery, “Rock a bye baby in the tree tops, when the wind blows the cradle will rock, and down will come baby cradle and all.” Surreptitiously, I snuck over to its cradle and leaned in so I could get a good grip on it. I clumsily picked it up, and started to escape when I heard my mother gasp.
“Em, what are you doing? If you wanted to hold the baby that bad, you could’ve just asked.” She came over and swooped it from my arms. I stood there for a while and stared at her, dumbfounded. I slowly walked away and ran up to my room where I could make plans for the next attack.
This next plan would be so devious and evil, the alien would have to leave. I went into my small kitchen and found just what I needed to set the trap. Slowly and carefully, I set the animal crackers in a trail from the alien’s cradle to the laundry room. I sat in the laundry room and waited for the small creature to follow the track. I peeked out the door and saw it picking up each animal cracker, try to chew it, then give up and throw it back onto the floor. However, it was following my trail. I was within grabbing distance of the creature when it started to babble.
“Gargggg goo blubbbleee.” My mother would hear it and come rushing. I had to act quickly. I grabbed the alien and pulled it into my lair. I didn’t know what to do next because I hadn’t got this far in my plan. Just when I was about to try to build a human catapult out of towels and toilet paper, it shoved something in my mouth. At my shocked expression, it started to clap its hands and laugh ecstatically. I pulled the object from my mouth, realizing that the alien had shoved an animal cracker in my mouth, obviously trying to choke me. Now, I earned a new respect for the creature. The sun peaked out from behind the ashen clouds, hinting a new beginning. Maybe one day we could be partners in crime. Maybe, just maybe, I could grow to like my new sister.
Alien Baby
The morning was dark and damp, with grave clouds looming over the sun, threatening to engulf it. I woke up in my small pink bedroom and glared at the ballerinas that danced over my head and on my ceiling. Silently, I slipped out of bed and peered down the hallway. No one stirred and my mind raced with excitement because I could secretly watch Barney and Friends. I crept down the stairs on my small feet, eyeing the small baskets that were piled high with mountains of green and pink colored hay and half eaten chocolate rabbits.
“Hi Emmy,” came my dad’s voice, startling me from the side.
“Today, we are going to the hospital to meet your new baby sister.” He said those words with an edge of enthusiasm, and I wasn’t sure why. Slowly, I nodded my head, still slightly puzzled.
“Well, let’s get ready to go, your brother is already up.” My brother, Julian, stumbled out from my parent’s room looking half awake but already very alert.
I dressed in my favorite blue flowered dress because I knew this could very well be my last day with happiness. Julian and I were both reluctant as we dragged our bodies into the small car and into our booster seats.
When the engine was rumbling and the heat started to warm our cold toes and hands, I whispered, “We must stay strong; this thing is evil. It will destroy us.” In response, Julian nodded his head and stuck his thumb back in his mouth. I sat there for some time biting on my old pacifier that should have been taken away years ago, and thought about how much I hated this new alien I would soon meet. Before I could have more unpleasant thoughts, my heavy eyelids won over and I drifted into a deep sleep filled with evil alien babies and more of my worst nightmares.
When I finally woke up, we were at an enormous, cold, stone building. We were led into a room that smelled like old people and crackers as I fought to catch up with my dad and brother. Finally I saw my mom and smiled the big grin that always made me get my way. Maybe, I thought, if I really fought she could throw away the alien baby and we could all be happy.
I was pulled out of my imagination when my dad announced, “Meet your new sister, Evelyn Frances.” My mother smiled, although I could see how exhausted she was, and stroked what appeared to be my baby doll. I just stood in the doorway with disapproval, my three year old hand on my hip. My mother beckoned me and my brother to come closer so we walked over to see the alien. I reached out to touch its obviously inhuman hands, and the thing cringed away when I did. I was suddenly very perplexed. I examined its little bald head and tiny features that seemed so fragile a single touch could shatter its miniature bones. Cleverly, I reached out and stroked its pudgy face, and instantly regretted it when my hand was covered in wet, sticky drool.
“Does it have a little brain?” I asked unsure of the answer myself. My mother laughed lightly.
“Of course it does, it’s just like you only smaller. “ Now I was mad. This thing was not like me and definitely not part of our family.
I opened my mouth to protest, but then Julian asked, “Can I hold her?” I was utterly confused. We had had an agreement and now he wanted to hold this creature?
“Yes, but you have to be very careful.” My mother cautiously handed it to Julian. My dad came from behind me and stroked my back.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Was everyone crazy? Now it had become all too clear to me that I would have to take her down myself.
A few days later my mother came home with the thing. I was very upset because she hadn’t just disposed of the thing. The alien had on little blue socks and a matching hat. It looked so pleasant in my mother’s arms that I knew one day it would be the end of us all. My mother set the alien in the middle of more toys than I could count when I learned to count. I plopped down next to it and examined every move, every gurgle, and every burp. I looked at the toys in longing to play one or at least touch them. I waited to see if this new creature was at least polite. The selfish thing did not offer me any of its many toys so, unsatisfied, I walked away. I was hurt, confused, but most of all, vengeful.
I woke up, frazzled and tired, because the alien had cried the whole night, allowing me no sleep at all. Before I tiptoed down the stairs, I grabbed my McDonald’s spy kit I had gotten yesterday. I took out the binoculars and scoped out the living room for the alien. Just as I had suspected, it was peacefully rocking back and forth in its little cradle. I sang low and whispery, “Rock a bye baby in the tree tops, when the wind blows the cradle will rock, and down will come baby cradle and all.” Surreptitiously, I snuck over to its cradle and leaned in so I could get a good grip on it. I clumsily picked it up, and started to escape when I heard my mother gasp.
“Em, what are you doing? If you wanted to hold the baby that bad, you could’ve just asked.” She came over and swooped it from my arms. I stood there for a while and stared at her, dumbfounded. I slowly walked away and ran up to my room where I could make plans for the next attack.
This next plan would be so devious and evil, the alien would have to leave. I went into my small kitchen and found just what I needed to set the trap. Slowly and carefully, I set the animal crackers in a trail from the alien’s cradle to the laundry room. I sat in the laundry room and waited for the small creature to follow the track. I peeked out the door and saw it picking up each animal cracker, try to chew it, then give up and throw it back onto the floor. However, it was following my trail. I was within grabbing distance of the creature when it started to babble.
“Gargggg goo blubbbleee.” My mother would hear it and come rushing. I had to act quickly. I grabbed the alien and pulled it into my lair. I didn’t know what to do next because I hadn’t got this far in my plan. Just when I was about to try to build a human catapult out of towels and toilet paper, it shoved something in my mouth. At my shocked expression, it started to clap its hands and laugh ecstatically. I pulled the object from my mouth, realizing that the alien had shoved an animal cracker in my mouth, obviously trying to choke me. Now, I earned a new respect for the creature. The sun peaked out from behind the ashen clouds, hinting a new beginning. Maybe one day we could be partners in crime. Maybe, just maybe, I could grow to like my new sister.
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