BloopManG

                I handed my mom the green slip of paper. She lowered her eyes to it and scanned the front and back quickly. "Again?" she asked, not at all surprised.                 You see, this was the dreaded green slip that told my parents that they needed to meet with my teacher. I had been kicked out of every school I had ever been to, because I was a one hundred percent troublemaker. I had gotten dreaded blue slips, dreaded pink slips, dreaded yellow slips, dreaded all-colors-of-the-rainbow slips.                Now, again, my parent would meet with my teacher, Mr. Girly, and most likely talk about kicking me out of Ingenious Prep

Food, food, the magical stuff. Food, food, can make you buff. Food, food, you can't get enough. Food, food, can call your bluff. Food, food, a yummy marshmallow puff. Food, food, and a delicious creampuff. Food, food, some foods are rough. Food, food, and some foods are tough. Food, food, some have some fluff. Food, food, and some have some scruff. Food, food, I love to eat this magical stuff. Food, food, at lunchtime I'll get some soon enough.

Writing is my life force. In the written world you can have a horse. Writing is a creative passion. In the written world you can have a girl who likes fashion. Writing is a love for words. In the written world you can have colorful birds. Writing saves many souls. It fills up your heart, which is full of holes. Writing is a way of life. With writing there will be no strife. Writing grabs on and holds on tight. Writing, in the dark, is a source of light.

              Have you ever had a breakdown? Something in your life that went completely wrong? This is a story about a few such events that happened to a man named Edward Nancy.               Edward's parents died in a car accident when he was six years old. He went to live with his Aunt and Uncle, who abused and beat him. His only escape from this was to bully kids at school, steal lunch money, and to disrespect his teachers. This went on for six years before Edward ran away.     

                  He needed it. He needed it so badly that he physically ached like a man suffering with drug withdrawals. "I need it," the man said in a gravelly voice. "I need freedom."                   For as long as he could remember, James had been a slave in the Rodgers' household. He had been stolen from his house at a very young age; seven, if James could recall. James was in-route to turn thirty-two in a month's time. After twenty-five back-breaking years of service and lab

                   It started out like any normal, old day. Tye Killinger woke up at seven o' clock in the morning, took the first of his three showers that he would take that day, shaved, brushed his teeth, and then woke up his wife, Marista.                   "Wake up, honey," he said, "Time to get the kids to school. They're just finishing their breakfast."                  

Drums, drums, they make a beat. The throne is another name for the seat. Drumsticks help you make the beat. The beat that you can play with your feet. A beat is a delicious, sweet treat. A sweet treat that your ears can eat. You have to keep your drums oiled and neat. Or else they'll breakdown in the heat. You can play drums in the heat, in sleet, or even if your name is Pete. Because drums, drums, they make a beat. And a beat is a delicious, sweet treat.

Decorate this simple old tree, With tensile, bulbs, and candycanes. It's Christmas time! What glee! Santa Claus is coming and you'll see, Rudolph leading the sleigh. It's Christmas time! What glee! The spirit of Christmas is inside me, So chop down a little pine, And decorate this simple old tree. "The presents are here!" says he, The kids rush downstairs. It's Christmas time! What glee! And here comes a little boy named Lee, With lights and stockings in hand. Here to decorate this simple old tree. Go inside using the key. The house is aglow. Everyone is done decorating this simple old tree. It's Christmas time! What glee!

The day is young. The pink and yellow flowers smell of honey as you step near them. You lay down and stare at the beautiful, yet striking, mountains in the distance. The birds sing and chirp, welcoming the new day. The plants r u s t l e as a gentle b   r   e   e   z   e catches them. You welcome the quiet. The solitude is perfect.

The football came down, With a soft whistle. The hands went up, Like a breath of air. They made contact, Gracefully smooth. The hands went down, With the ball in grasp. The result was cheering, The crowd on their feet. A touchdown to win the game, It doesn't get much better. You can't really put it into words, Except I just did.