... and it makes me peddle even faster. I reach the school with two minutes to spare. As I reach the front doors, the principal who kindly tells me to slow down greets me. I quickly find my seat as the last tone of the bell sounds, knowing that I almost didn’t make it. I began to look around the room, and notice the differences from previous classrooms to this one. I keep thinking that I am finally here, no longer in junior high, but in highschool. It was a completely different territory, where I was a lowly sophomore, rather then the bigshot head of the class ninth grader. I notice that other students are looking around the room, and I wonder if they’re thinking ...
... his dry, pale skin making him look like a zombie. "Let's go now!!" Claire screeched at the top of her lungs. Claire meant this time. Quickly, Joe stumbled out of the dressing room in a clumsy fashion. Looking like he had just chugged a couple of kegs, dragged his oversized Santa coat and pants with him hopping they wouldn't fall down and left the dressing room. Joe and Claire walked toward where Santa's hut was while watching a crowd gather around it. "Ya know Claire," Joe said, "I really hate my job." "Really," replied Claire in a sarcastic tone, "Who doesn't hate little brats crawling around on your lap." Joe sat down in his special Santa chair and ...
... "No, I can't say that I do." mused Hans. "What are they then?" "They are mysteries where locked rooms are involved," said Miguel, "and where one person might have to do something to get into the locked room and change something, for instance, put ginger ale into a glass of ice." "Ginger ale into a glass of ice? That's quite easy." laughed Hans. "Yes, but not when YOU are in a locked room, the ice and glass in a safe, and me with the Ginger Ale outside!" exclaimed Miguel. "That is quite extraordinary, if you could do it. But what would I get if you didn't do it?" asked Hans. "Head seat of all violinists, plus 100,000 dollars, in CA ...
... "Huh?" Tim replied. "Wakeup!," she yelled back. "Oh, OK" Tim yelled back. "That boy, Tony came by, looking for you, he thought we had a phone." Tim said chuckling. "You didn't tell him that we don't have a phone or the other stuff did you?!" Gwen yelled. "Um, well kinda yeah, why?" Tim questioned. " Why?" she yelled and stormed off. Gwen was the type of girl who didn't care what people thought of her, but she didn't like it when people would find out that she was poor. She had blonde hair, and was very thin. She wore sequined pants, and these funny looking shirts most of the time, unless she went out. "Gwen?, Mike, and Shirley are home. Look I'm sorry I t ...
... let him go , and gives us this look like hey hold me back! Another thing that goes along with his fighting techniques, are his day dream desires of being a security dog. We have this one dog named Pinto that Lobito hates with all his heart. Being that Pinto is alot older and bigger than Lobbito , Lobito never dares raise a bark at Pinto. But don't ever tell Pinto to go outside the house, because as soon as Lobito hears the words “Pinto outside”, hell breaks loose. Lobito will come tearing around the corner like if he heard Puppy Chow was going to be on sale. He starts barking and yelping right behind Pinto with an occasional nip at his tail. At the same time ...
... His diversity, talent, and his ability to be ferocious and graceful at the same time would make me want to invite Billy Corgan to dinner. I would invite Jimi Hendrix because he was one of the greatest guitarists of all time, despite his drug habits. Hendrix was ahead of his time with the music he played. He introduced a whole new style of rock guitar. His lyrics were simple and were almost always about love, but his guitar talent and unique playing style always made up for it. I would love to have a jam session with him and maybe have him teach me some things I do not know about playing guitar. It would be a great honor to learn from a teacher as grea ...
... omniscient." This has much more meaning than what it at first appears to have. Once again, we had slaves. We kept these things alive and helped them out. Like I said earlier they would have died if it wasn't for us. We gave them a home and fed them when they needed to be fed. All we ask for in return is that they work on our farms. They are property of ours, we bought and paid for them legally. It says that one of my rights as a United States citizen, is my right to own private property. I have written proof of ownership of these wild animals. That's all that they are, animals. Think about those black bums in the North. They have to try to work on ...
... the type of place it is, he wasn't alone too long. "Useta call me Black Billy," he growled, lumbering to his feet. His head ducked and dodged, body swayed, as he danced on his toes, shooting lefts and rights at an imaginary opponent. His scarred face looked troubled for a moment. "Coulda been the Champ. Didn' get a chance. Said I don' got the killer instinct. I know I got it. Jus' need a chance." His audience nodded appreciatively and exchanged understanding glances. Billy shuffled to a stop and shook his big head as a huge grin split his battered face. "No use cryin' over spilt milk. That was a long time ago. Yeah man, a long time ago. He extended a ...
... the outright rebellion against the normal. Also, a whole anarchy thing was in my life for a long while. I do not know why I believed in it at all, I just did. It was probably from the whole rebellion aspect of my life. I started to slack off a little in school and my attitude was changing a lot, for the worse. This got a lot better as time passed. Ahh the present, the me as I am right now. Just recently I have gotten a massive dose of reality. I do not know how, or what from, or anything like that. I woke up one day and it all hit me. I realize now that a lot of stuff in my past was stupid and meaningless so I stopped it. Some of it is still left in my psyche thou ...
... the pieces of his shattered life in case Susan should ever find him again, despite the slim chance of that ever happening. Though he had his faults, Henchard was strong-minded when he decided to be. At the next several doors, Henchard was very stubborn. When he would at first be refused, he would insist upon a chance to prove his worthiness by performing some task for the shopkeeper. Most simply refused, but at some places it got him in the door to speak as best he could on his own behalf. It was near the end of the street that one shopkeeper agreed to take on Henchard's services, but only after he had insisted on delivering a package for the man to a custo ...
