The following is an essay that Noah wrote as school. I thought it was pretty clever. Of course, he has taken creative liberties, I can't remember the last time he had to empty the cat box....
Man, I can't wait to be 20. Right now, I'm stuck with changing the cat ox and emptying the trash. If only I could just speed up time.
I despise changing the cat box, because when I take the top off, I'm greeted by poo. First, I start to barf a little. Then I start to get dizzy. If I don't faint, I feel like I'm going to die. If I do faint, I hope I was leaning back. I'll never complain about bad breath again (or athlete's foot).
The final death wish is taking out the trash. I feel like someone or something is going to jump at me. Animals are coming for my brain!! They don't deserve me! They deserve my sister. Then all my problems are solved. Party time! I hope the animals are deaf.
Well, that's the two death jobs. If you mom or dad tells you to do one, show this paper to them.
1 comment:
Noah - you ROCK!
Post a Comment