This entry is mandatory. A separate quiz grade will be given for every student’s entry.
- “A” = a truly unique story/description that shows a sophisticated use of the words and the willingness to develop the idea(s); it’s clear that the story works even without the vocab words being the focus.
- “B” = a creative idea with potential (if more time was available) with a solid use of the vocab words; perhaps a bit rushed; the vocab words seem to be the focus (with the story seeming to be ‘added on’ a bit).
- “C” (or lower) = seems to be rushing through the assignment with minimal development/understanding.
- “F” = no entry.
- Note: Mr. Long may substitute “F” with a “zero” in the grade book if the student has a pattern of not doing these vocab entries over the quarter. If only one mandatory vocab entry is missing in the quarter, then an “F” will offer a minimal penalty grade-wise.
Directions:
- Write a brief story or description of the image.
- Use all 10 of the following words from the January 26 list seen below.
- Include: definition and part of speech (as you use it) in parenthesis to receive maximum credit.
The Words:
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approbation
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consensus
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dichotomy
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extraneous
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feasible
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inundate
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laud
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maverick
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mundane
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pungent
Remember: Include the definition and part of speech (as you use it) in parenthesis to get maximum credit.
Image 1: http://tinyurl.com/dxx4h2
Image 2: http://tinyurl.com/coynbt
Image 3: http://tinyurl.com/cengv4
rabbits and cheshire cats 
Ode to a Tennis Ball
It had been three long days. I had traveled over fences through intersections and under bridges but finally I beheld the sight of my favorite toy. My beautiful tennis ball, sitting amongst the pungent (adj), or sharp smelling garbage of a dumpster, looking at me with its vibrant green skin. I believed finding my ever loved ball would not be feasible (adj) or possible, after my ignorant owner threw it carelessly into the back of a dump truck while we were playing fetch.
But now, there it sat seven feet above me and completely out of reach. I had traveled for miles following the smell of that certain truck. It had been a hard chase and resulted in my being 20 miles away from home, hungry and still without my prize. As I sat staring, contemplating how I might get my tennis ball, my mind wandered. Back to home. I would be lauded (v), praised highly, on my return. My owner would feed me treat after treat into my open mouth, so happy I decided to return. And I would be the talk about town in the dog world, ‘Old maverick (n), rebel, Fluffy’ they would say ‘couldn’t just let a new toy be bought for her, she had to be brave and find it’. I would set a new standard for dogs, a new consensus (n), or an opinion reached by a group as a whole, would be created. Humans would expect dogs to find their belongings no matter how long or far it took!
And when a dog didn’t? Complete disapproval. I would be the standard of approbation (n) or approval! Everyone would love me!
With this new thought energy I bounded towards the dumpster and by some power managed to climb, or was it fly, to the top. I landed among the rotten food and dirty paper, never so happy to be filthy in my life. I searched momentarily and grabbed my sweet, sweet ball with my mouth and jumped from the tower in which it was held. However, that power that helped me to find my way to the top did not help me down. I landed hard, crumpling over my knees and skidding on my face. I was immediately inundated (v) or overwhelmed, by pain and the thoughts of attaining my prize and being on my way home felt completely extraneous (adj), not relevant, as they left my brain.
I limped on, trying desperately to remember my way back, but with nothing to smell nor anything to follow within the hour I was lost. Obviously my search for my tennis ball had given me the adrenaline to keep going, and now my energy was completely gone. I lay in the corner of that alley way, only twenty feet from the dumpster, that dragon that had slain me, the courageous knight.
I quickly fell into a deep sleep and by the time I awoke I was completely alone and lost. I rose still sore from my fall but couldn’t even decide which direction to begin in. The alley way was a dichotomy (n) or something branching into two parts, one going to the right and the other to the left. I stood perplexed unable to decide what to do. But then, I heard the squeal of brakes behind me and I heard the slamming of a car door. It was the animal cops.
The man was upon me before I could move. He put a leash around my neck and then locked me into the back cage of the car. Even though I whimpered to the man he refused to take me home, but at least I still had my tennis ball, there was no way I would lose it again. We arrived at prison and I spent a life time in a cell there. I watched as the clock moved three numbers with the short hand before my rescue occurred.
My owner, my wonderful owner came into the jail and shook her head at me. “Fluffy!” she said “What am I going to do with you?”
“Well ma’am” the evil jailer said “I found him across the interstate lying in an alley way with that tennis ball”
“Tennis Ball?” she questioned and then turned her attention to me “Fluffy, are you seriously that mundane, (adj) or worldly that you would risk your life for one of your toys?”
Then she smiled and took me home. Like I had hoped I had made it back with my beautiful prize, my wonderful tennis ball, and even though my reputation did not rise with my determined quest, like I had planned treats of gratitude were placed in my open mouth.
I was running in order to get to the meeting on time. As I ran past the lab I smelled that pungent (sharp smell) (adj) aroma of chemicals. This reminded me that I walk past that lab and smell that smell everyday and it makes me think of how mundane (habitual) (adj) the things I do in my life are. However, today the smell doesn’t make me feel the same; I realized that when you are hurrying everything is completely different, even if you see something everyday. I was hurrying because I was late to my meeting and I was as late because I had been inundated (overwhelmed) (verb) with work that day. I had just finished when I realized I was going to be late if I didn’t hurry. This meeting was actually a follow up meeting. The original meeting was a meeting to come up with new advertising ideas, we had to come with ideas, decide on one, and the idea had to have the approbation (approval) (noun) of everyone at the meeting not just the majority. A few minutes into this first meeting, we soon formed a dichotomy (a branching into two contradictory parts) (noun). One group favored one idea and the other group favored another idea after a while we persuaded each member of the other group to conform to our point of view, except one. There was one maverick (nonconformist) (noun) who just wouldn’t agree to our idea. We couldn’t convince him in the first meeting and now we had to have another, he was holding the whole process up. I arrived, I was the last one, and we began. There was no progress though, every time we came up with a feasible (possible) (adj) solution, he would have an argument contradicting us. The real problem was his arguments were usually extraneous (not relevant) and we would never run into that problem in real life. We started to think he just liked to argue. I finally stood up a told him that if he didn’t agree I was going to report that he was holding up business on purpose and he would get fired, and the whole team would back me up. This got his attention and he agreed quickly. There was finally a consensus (opinion reached by a whole group) (whole) and the meeting was over. From that point on we never had any trouble with him and I was lauded (praised) as the forceful negotiator.
I knew it was feasible (adj possible) I just didn’t quite know how to go about it just yet. I knew she would give me approbation (n approval) if I retrieved the ball for her. That’s basically how it was these days fetching and eating…just to please her. But if it made her happy it made me happy and we had made quite a game out of this chase the ball thing lately. The ball had a certain pungent (smell or sharp taste adj) about it and honestly it had become addicting. The thing that was even more addicting however was when she lauded (praised highly v) me when I brought back the ball. To know that I was pleasing her made me excited and I wanted to do it as often as I could. But all of this is extraneous (not relevant adj), what the real deal is is when we broke the rules of fetch. She had never been a maverick (rebel adj/n) and it surprised me when she started throwing the ball farther and farther…down different paths each day….taking me new places. At first all of this new stuff seemed to inundate (overwhelm v) me as I knew what we were doing was wrong. Her authority figure had told her not to go across the street….yet we did. We played like this…mundane (everyday, worldly as opposed to spiritual adj) everyday….a habit, a drug, an addiction. Until one day she threw the ball too far. From what I could see that day it was long gone. However my fellow colleagues made a consensus (an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole n) decision that the ball had been lost thru the path and over the fence. I was scared, however my desire to please her was too strong, I pressed on. Finally I came to a place where the path was dichotomy (branching into two parts – especially contradictory ones adj) and at first I hesitated until I could smell the strong smell of the ball down the left path. I took it immediately and quickly came upon the fence the ball was suspected to be on the other side of. Working quickly I dug a small rut just big enough to slip under near a loose board and found the ball. Pride raced thru me as well as adrenaline as I raced as fast as I could back to her. Moments later I was there in her arms getting kisses, treats and pats. I had accomplished my main goal…to please her! Finally we went home and spent the rest of the day together me and her her and me just the 2 of us! Best friends forever!
The woman awoke to the beeping of an alarm clock. It was a beeping she did not recognize; it was not her alarm clock. She turned it off and sat up. She was in a bed in a room of what appeared to be a hotel. It was not a fancy hotel, with old grungy carpet clinging to the floors and mundane (adj, mediocre, repeated) paintings adorning the walls, their pallid forms so generic they all seemed nearly the same. She looked about her, trying to remember what had happened the night before.
He was crazy; she knew that now. He’d seemed so fascinating and wonderful at first, a maverick (noun, rebel, nonconformist), someone trully unique…perhaps a bit too unique. She’d always internally lauded (verb, praised highly) him for how different he was, and she’d constantly tried to prove to him how different she was herself to gain his approbation (noun, approval). But lately he’d been asking odd things of her, such as where her parents lived, and if she could please wait for him in the courtyard at an hour till midnight. She’d never thought it feasible (adj, possible) that those things he’d asked would ever lead to the deaths of three people.
She shuddered in the strange, dark room, reaching up to rub her head where she remembered he’d struck her. That was all she could remember. She’d told him she no longer loved him, and he’d become enraged. He couldn’t just accept a loss as countless other lovers did. He was too unique.
The dusty curtains were pulled tight across the grimy windows, and she rose to open them. Light flooded into the room, save for a small rectangle of shadow in the middle of the window. It was a piece of paper, taped there for her to find. Its message filled her with horror.
Panic inundated (verb, overwhelmed, flooded) the young woman’s mind, and fearfully she looked at the alarm clock by the bed. It was 8:54.
Her mind struggled to come to a consensus (noun, a decision reached among several different options). She’d never thought he would hurt anyone, but she had been wrong then. This could not be a joke.
In a wild flurry she dove into her shoes and raced to the door. A wave of pungeant (adj, sharp smelling) cleaning smell hit her as she entered the hallway. The previous maids had cleaned it for its new owner. But the hotel was dead silent. The last guest it would ever hold had been her.
She dashed down the corridor and reached the first stairwell. When she descended onto the lower floor, she found that the layout was entirely different from that of the top floor. The hallway led straight to a dichotomy (noun, division into two contradictory branches), a foreboding fork in the road. Her unpanicked mind would have told her that both ways would most likely have led to the next stairwell, but all the logic and sense she’d ever earned in her entire life was crammed into those six remaining minutes, now surely only five.
How had he done this? How had he known exactly how long it would have taken her to awake and turn off the alarm clock, get up and open the cutrains, and comprehend the note? How did he know that six minutes were just enough for her not to give up but actually attempt to make it out, to be so wrought with panic?
She was running again, down the hall on the left, which luckily took her to the stairs soon enough. She flew down floor after floor. Her legs and lungs were burning, and in each dark stairwell she dreaded her downward leaps would send her tumbling. And a fall would slow her down. In those six minutes speed was all her body knew. She moved in a way that got her through doors, down stairs, and around corners as quickly as possible.
She lost count of how many levels she completed. The decor was so similar on every floor, and so fast her heart was racing. The floors all blended into one unending maze, filled with extraneous (adj, unneccessary, false) routes meant only to draw her away from her dangling life.
She banged through one last door and staggered into sunlight. But its warmth was not enough to stop her for even a second. As she streaked away, leaving the maze behind, an enormous sound exploded into her. Such an intense heat and force slammed into her back, and she was knocked to the ground.
She turned on her side to peer back at the hotel. It was shrouded in smoke and flames. The clouds of ash stung her eyes, bringing tears of painful relief.
It was the first time we had really gone anywhere. My sister and I were so excited to go somewhere besides the library. She was 7 and I was 9 that summer. We couldn’t believe we would actually get to do something like our friends always talked about. The idea just wasn’t feasible (adj, possible) in our minds, because it was so different. Our parents had reached the consensus (noun, an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole) a few years ago that we didn’t need to go on summer vacations. They thought we would be fine at home. But after that year, Mom changed her mind and convinced Dad to do the same. She said we needed to get out of the town. It was the last really happy memory I have with him. My sister and I jumping into the waves, while my Dad laughed in the background. Watching him make some burgers for lunch. Listening as he put the seashell up to my ear. My Dad died that next school year. It wasn’t like we were expecting it either. I got called into the office at school one day, and it all went downhill from there. I remember the pungent (adj, sharp taste or smell) smell of my mother’s perfume, which she never wore after that day. I guess she thought it was unlucky, because she never wore that outfit again either. She told us that it was just an accident. Said that the other car was going too fast, and couldn’t stop. She tried to explain that the brakes went out on the other car, and that they couldn’t slow down. My Dad was taking a right turn, but the other car rammed him against the building on the side of the road. He was pinned, probably unconscious. But those just seemed to be extraneous (adj, not relevant) details. All that really mattered was that my Dad was gone and never coming back. I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to be strong for my Mom and little sister Ashton. But I couldn’t. The fact that I lost my Dad seemed to inundate (verb, overwhelm) me, and I couldn’t keep it in. I didn’t even care what people thought; I just wanted to go home. Three days later I left my house full of casseroles to go to the funeral. As I listened to all my family and my Dad’s friends give him laud (noun, high praise) I thought about that day at the beach. I thought about how we were a normal family for once. And somehow I knew we would never be that way again. I didn’t really care about the approbation (noun, approval) of our family of others. I just cared that I wouldn’t get any more days like that with him. That when I really fell apart. It was like I was another person. I wasn’t a typical 9 year-old anymore. Everywhere I went someone would find out, and they would give me that look. The one I was just getting used to. Where people look at you and seem to be saying ‘oh poor thing’ like you would think about a really skinny dog. I just wanted to escape. To get away from the new life I was being forced into. I wished for that mundane (adj, everyday) life I used to live. The life where I got to see my Dad at the dinner table every night. I thought about Ashton who was younger than me, and knew that she didn’t have as many memories with him as me. I knew she wished she did. And I knew most of all that she was feeling exactly like I was. I knew it would be hard for her too. And yet I had no idea of what to do. I wanted to be a maverick (noun, rebel) and stop my crying and mourning, but I didn’t know how. I just wouldn’t stop thinking of him. Then, just like that it was over. The funeral was done and casseroles once again surrounded me. But those memories were still there. And while at the time, I wanted to forget; I knew I needed to remember. I knew I should savor those memories of my Father. Those memories were all that I would have. Now that I’m older, I realize that that time in my life was a dichotomy (noun, a division into to contradictory parts) as the carefree girl I once was, while still around, became aware of the evils in the world. I know that without that day at the beach, my memories of my Dad wouldn’t be as good because that day was perfect. And I am glad that even as I get older, I can still think back and remember the good in life, those simple times. Where all I had to do was look back and he was there, smiling, urging me to go live life to the fullest. That’s what keeps me going. I just think of him, and try to live like he would have wanted me to. Because that’s all I can really do.
Eight minutes.
Eight precious minutes left.
They watch the water inundate (v.; flood) their footprints on the beach and taste the pungent (adj.; sharp taste) sea water as it bounces up on the sand. They dig their feet into the sand as deep as they can and feel the push and pull of the sand in between their toes as the water splashes back and forth past them.
Seven minutes left.
One of them points into the ocean, waiting for approbation (n.; approval) from her guardian. They do not reach a consensus (n.; agreement). But the maverick (n.; rebel), against the guardian’s will, still runs into the foaming water.
Six minutes.
The other one stays on the beach and instead walks away from the ocean. She starts building a sand castle. The dichotomy (n.; branching of two contradictory parts) between the sources of entertainment with the two of them is profound.
Five minutes.
The guardian decides to allow the disobedient one do whatever she wants in the ocean and concentrates on watching the castle being built.
Four minutes left.
The castle takes shape as buckets of different sizes are dumped deliberately on top of each other. Shells are pressed into the castle and small holes are dug out resembling windows.
Three minutes.
The castle is almost finished. Jagged sides are made even and a flag is placed on top. The guardian lauds (v.; praise highly) the builder for the splendidness of the structure.
Two minutes left.
The one playing with water has a wonderful time splashing around and questions if it is feasible (adj.; possible) to be more joyous than the present.
One minute left.
Any extraneous (adj.; irrelevant) decorations are taken off from the castle to make it look more genuine. More water is swashed around; the discovery that moving a hand only through the surface of the water produces a nice rippling effect is increasingly intriguing. The guardian fails to stay awake under the hypnotic sunshine.
Time.
Suddenly, all sunlight is extinguished. The earth falls completely into blackness, and the temperature drops considerably. Every species on earth will die.
Little did they know that 93 million miles away, the sun had already gone out about eight minutes ago. Mercury was affected first; after three minutes of the sun’s failure, total darkness swept through its barren surface. Venus met its doom after six minutes, but the gaseous atmosphere will trap heat longer than the other planets. This mundane (adj.; worldly, not spiritually) event will cause the extinction of everything in our solar system.
Everyday. Everyday I toil for hours, endlessly working, endlessly slaving for the will of the big ones. I do the same thing, day after day after day. Fetch the ball. Bring the ball. Fetch the ball. Bring the ball. I hate it. That mundane(adj.)(everyday, ordinary) task permeates my existence. I want to be free.
I am trapped in an iron cage when I am not slaving after some stupid ball. There, I am on display for the world. All can see me, THEY can see me, but do they release me? No. The cruel big ones have captured me. Days of running just to run, days of complete freedom, days of not chasing a horrid, yellow ball for fake approbation(noun)(approval) that is only there to make my enslavement seem ‘all right’ to the big ones, haunt my dreams. I used to be free. I used to be able to do whatever I wanted to do. Now, I am forced to submit to the will of my masters, my owners. They say sit, I must sit. They say stay, I must stay. They say roll over, I roll over. I wish my wretched existence would come to an end, but that has never been a feasibility(noun)(possibility). Oh, I try. I eat everything possible, hoping to set myself free in anyway possible, but instead of just letting me go, they bring me to the man in the mask. He is my ultimate barrier between this life of imprisonment and another life of freedom. How they laud(verb)(highly praise) the man in the mask. The big ones almost worship him for stopping my decline and halting my dreams of freedom. Don’t the big ones see how I hate this existence, how I hate bending to their will? There is nothing I can do.
Fetching that awful ball is the ultimate symbol of my complete, utter enslavement. How dare they expect me to bring back an item that they carelessly threw away, and then expect me to retrieve it again? What is the point to all of this? It is not for my enjoyment, it certainly does not bring any pleasure to me. The big ones do it for their own sense of purpose in the world. They love dominating another species and delight in subjecting their slaves to such humiliation.
The worst part of everything is how I seem to be a maverick(noun)(rebel, nonconformist) even to my own kind. I encounter others of my species on the weekly “show off your slaves” day. Every week, my masters tie me down and pull me through the streets, parading their ownership and dominance of me. What I do not understand is that others of my species love it. They inundate (verb) (submerge) themselves in the idea that this is all well and good. They do not see past the fictitious image that the big ones present us with. They do not see the atrocities being inflicted on their kind. Others of my species see the ball, and they love it. Their consensus(noun)(opinion reached as a group) says that the big ones are to be trusted, to be loved. They want to be loved by the big ones, they beg and submit themselves to anything for that love. However, they will never receive it. No matter how hard they try, how many hideous pink sweaters they are forced to wear, it is all extraneous(adj.)(irrelevant). In the end, the big ones just lock them up behind the cold, iron walls, leave them, and forget them. I have learned that there is no point to hope, no point to trying to enjoy this pitiful existence. There is no hope for escape, no hope for love, so why even try?
My owners show their joy of controlling me. I am locked in the cage for longer and longer each day. I am submitted to an overwhelmingly pungent(adj.)(sharp taste) food that is disgusting in every way. The slop I receive is fit for a pig, I might as well be one. At least they are allowed to wallow in whatever filth they desire. I am not even able to separate myself from the masters for long enough to enjoy any part of life. I want this all to end, I want to be free, but there is no escape. Escape is only found in death, but they will not even let me follow that path. There is no dichotomy(noun)(contradictory division) in my hatred of the big ones. I am not conflicted in my opinions. Nothing mentally holds me back from doing anything to escape this existence, but everything, physically, stands in my way. There is nothing I can do, no way to ameliorate my situation. I am forever stuck in the vicious cycle of fetch the ball, bring the ball, fetch the ball, bring the ball. There is nothing I can do, so why even try?
Picture# 3
This year I finally turn 18, my body starts to change and grow, but my mind and thinking are still innocent. I don’t have any experience about lives but In front of me was a challenge, a cross road of life, this time my life turn into dichotomy ((n.) branching into two parts – especially contradictory one). One way is stop moving forward and stays at innocent; you don’t need to pay anything, in front of you was a beautiful garden, their had anything you want, but you only can live in your dream. Another way was a dark and thin little cave, in there nobody will laud ((v.) to praise highly) at you, no happy times and loves. But when you walk out that dark cave, there was success and victory that are waiting at you.
I know I have to make a choice. I thinking a long times, finally I choose the cave. I was so afraid and excited, because I don’t know what is waiting at me in the cave, just like eating the pungent ((adj.) sharp taste or smell) foods, you don’t know what it gonna taste, you are afraid it taste bad, but you are also excited, because maybe it taste good and you will like it. The cave was dark and make me feels weird, when I walk in there I can not see anything, the only thing I can heard was the angry voices and punishments, suddenly a thing inundate ((v.) overwhelm; flood, submerge) me, I stand up and check it out, it was a box called “forgotten”, I open the box carefully, and suddenly some mists come out from the box and get into my nose then go through my brain, It washes out all my thinking and my happy moment, they want me to learn and feel this hard and long test.
After two years, my personality are all change, I’m not an innocent kid anymore my thinking are more like an adult. During this two years I learned anything that feasible ((adj.) possible) can help me, and forget any of the extraneous ((adj.) not relevant) things. You might want to ask why I’m doing this, because the only thing I want was mundane ((adj.) worldly as opposed to spiritual, everyday) consensus’s ((n.) an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole) approbation ((n.) approval), that’s the only way I can be success and bring the victory to my own.
I keep my feet moving, suddenly a strong light hit on my eyes, and I’m so happy and excited, because I know that was the end of the cave, I’m graduates from the cave, in front of me was the success and victory, I’m run out of the cave, and there was the heaven, a place that better than the garden, I’m so happy and start to cry, because finally can prove that I’m not the maverick ((n.) rebel, nonconformist), the guy that nonconformist to the fate and destiny, the guy that walk to the easiest way and missed theirs success, they didn’t follow the way that the god pointed to, they follows theirs desires and failed. I feel so sad for them, but those are the things they got to pay, because they are lazy and don’t want to try, no trying no success that’s the point that my mom always tell me. 🙂
Run. Thats all it said. No directions, no description, just a small red sticky note that said in big, bold scribbly letters : RUN! I wasn’t sure if I were being pranked by those idiot boys that tried to sneak into my room two days ago, but I knew from past experience that this was not feasible (adj.). I had to move onto my next mission: find the mysterious boy in all red, and follow him to his leader. This guy wished to be lauded (v) by all that crossed his path. But the main reason to find him, was to find his main sources of mavericks (n.). They caused uprisings all over the place, and it was bad publicity, not to mention, the red boy didn’t have approbation (n.) from any of the S.S.D. But he never gets caught. All the info we had on him could get him pinned away for life. But everytime we get close to catching him, a life is put in danger, usually mine. He knows who I am. He uses his mundane (adj.) powers to control those around him when hes in trouble, or at least thats what I’ve been told to look for. I was also told to beware his pungent (adj.), that he could smell up to 50 miles away, if not farther. I’ve seen him twice, and both times, our eyes met, for a brief moment, as if he were warning me. The fierceness in his eyes were inundating (v.), and I was never able to pull away first. He was the most extraneous (v.) boy I had ever seen. He sometimes wasn’t even classified as a boy, more like a spirit. He supposedly stayed in a cave that branched off, a dichotomy (n.), that had a never ending tunnel. My leader and I and a few other top notch spies gathered in a tiny room, our consensus (n.) opinion was well beyond reached, we had to get to this boy before he killed a high power, the next great king of all times.
We were riding in a cruise liner out at sea. The pungent(affecting organs of smell)(adj) smell of sea water stained our noses and a shining sun tanned our faces. The journey at sea was a calm one, as it had seemed. The water was still and dark clouds were visible in the distance. When I had waken up in the morning, I received an alarm from the state and weathermen that a storm, one capable of inundating(flooding)(v) the island. There was a major consensus(majority of opinion)(n) from meteorologists that the storm was potentially dangerous. I was mad because I had no approbation(approval)(n) of leaving such a wonderful place; I was a maverick(a lone dissenter)(n), not agreeing with anyone else. However, I was forced to leave. There was a dichotomy(division in 2 parts)(n) of the transportation to the safest place. There were only two cruise liners transporting the people. The task was feasible(capable of being done)(adj) because the population was small. Although I was mad about leaving, I lauded(praised)(v) that I would still retain my life. As I rode out to sea, I began to feel mad that I was about to lose most of my mundane(worldly)(adj) possessions to a storm. These were things I had worked my entire life for. My house, my car, my job, all gone. The first few hours of the travel was dreadful. I heard many cries from people, screaming about death. They did not want to meet their emminent death within 15 minutes. No sign of life existed on the boat. It became worse when the storm seemed to come. People began to worry, saying the boat would be destroyed or flipped. I didn’t believe it. I just sat there, waiting for the trip to end. I knew that the boat wouldn’t flip. However, when the winds became fierce and thunder could be heard, I began to worry. Some of the passengers became crazy, yelling that they didn’t want to die. I tried to keep calm. After a few minutes into the storm, the boat began to lose balance against the intense waves, and finally flipped. Everyone was screaming. I tried to save myself by staying by the ship. However, the waves succumbed me and I knew death had triumphed…..
When I woke up, I found myself on a beach. There was no sign of the ship or anyone else. There were two children on the beach, running and playing. As I rubbed my eyes, I realized it was a hallucination. I thought something strange was going on. I, the extraneous(foreign)(adj) person who thought I was not going die, challenging God’s order, still lived. Why?
There was a woman. She woke up to an empty room. She looked around but there was nothing. She looked out the halls but there was nothing. Everything was quiet and empty. Usually the halls of her apartment are noisy. She was all alone. She went into her room, trying to figure out a feasible (adj., possible) idea on where everybody went and why it was so quiet. After a while she said it was extraneous (adj., not relevant) to her and she just got ready for her normal day. She got some breakfast and turned on her TV. What she saw was a news camera focusing on the city she lives in. The city was in ruins and filled with these mindless things. She turned it off, and just went out into the hall. When she was about to lock the door, something appeared out of the shadows. It tried to inundate (v., overwhelm) her, but failed. She ran. She ran through the hall, to the fire escape stairs, and ran down. When she got out of the apratment building, she saw a ruined city. The air was pungent (adj. sharp smell), and smelled of smoke and flesh. She got into her car, and drove around hoping something living could tell her somthing. All she saw was living dead. She knew she shouldn’t stay in the city very long. So she tried to drive out of it. However she was not able to get out, and she ran out of gas. So she got out and ran. Many undead chased her. She kept running and running, but they would not stop. She finally got trapped and she figured it would be the end, until something amazing happened. Some survivors acting like mavericks (n. rebels) showed up and they saved her. They brought her to a police station and there they helped regain her strength. One of the survivors lauded(v. praised highly) her for surviving so far. After resting, she went to the lobby room and there she saw a big meeting. The survivors were argueing how they could get out of the city. The arguement went into a dichotomy(n. branching into 2 parts), fighting for approbation(n. approval). One group was saying that they should stay and wait for the military. It was safer and they could survive. The other goup wanted to take a secret route underground and use it to get out of the city. It was not something mundane(adj. worldly as opposed to spiritual, everyday) to do because it was dark, and who knows what’s underground. Either stay and hope to survive, or go underground and see it they could escape. Either way they had to stick together. So after some debating, the survivors reached a consensus(n. an opinion reached by a goup as a whole). They decided to go underground and escape. The survivors rounded up everybody and they went underground. It was dark and smelly, but luckily they had flashlights. They crawled through the sewers, keeping gaurd. The woman stayed close. The survivors marched farther and farther until all of sudden they were swarmed. Many undead came charging through. Flashes of light and gunfire filled the sewers, and people screamed. The woman ran. She ran away from the group and she ran until she reached a dead end. The sounds of moaning were close. She looked around for something, but no weapon was in sight. She saw a ladder and she climbed up. She pushed on the manhole, trying to get out. The undead were right below her,moaning and trying to grab her. She kept pushing for her life, until finally she got out. When she got out she saw she was way out of the city. She was many miles away. She ran away from the city, moving on and on. And she reached a military convoy. From all the intel we can gather, she was the only survivor of that city.
DOG (Gone It)
Her name is Dorothea Ophelia Gewdhausen. I despairingly refer to her as DOG, although the others call her Doe. I have known DOG for quite some time. We were best friends not too long ago. Now, she is my mortal enemy. Our friendship abruptly ended when she stole my favorite, and my only, tennis ball. DOG has the posh squeaky toys, the expensive rawhide bones and even an exclusive stuffed canine made in her likeness. Why did she need, or more importantly, want my inexpensive, previously owned, tennis ball? My slobbered-on tennis ball is not feasible (suitable, adj) for such a prima donna. I suppose she wanted it just because she could pilfer it without any risk of reprimand.
Through her owners’ eyes, DOG was considered the model pooch. She served as an ideal companion for this childless couple and was treated greatly. Every morning DOG took Mrs. Gewdhausen for a brisk walk. DOG would intentionally adjust her pace to a slower run as she approached my house. With my tennis ball firm in her jowls, DOG deliberately stopped on my front lawn, tauntingly displaying her prized mouthpiece. I barked, growled, and scowled through my unobstructed bay window. DOG refused to recognize the commotion I made. I became increasingly inundated (overwhelmed, adj) with anger. To add insult to injury, she would leave a present in the middle of my lawn. A pungent (acrid, adj) odor wafted from her gift. Mrs. Gewdhausen lauded (praised, v) DOG by softly saying, “Good girl. You took care of business. Mommy loves you!” One would think DOG had just won Westminster’s “Best of Show.” What’s the big deal? Daily, we all perform this mundane (banal, adj) routine.
With bated anticipation, the others watched from their front windows. They yipped with glee when DOG graced them with her presence, as she pranced past their abodes. She would slow down, ever so slightly, to acknowledge her adoring fans. DOG was always well groomed, with a bow on her tail and polish on her nails. The consensus (majority agreement, n) among the others was that DOG was the Grand Dame of our canine community. Her cult following was maddening. The others had completely dismissed the fact that she stole my tennis ball. They considered this to be extraneous (irrelevant, adj) information when assessing her character.
Even though I have apprised them about her despicable thievery, they continue to adore this she-devil. How could they extend any sort of approbation (approval, n) to her? I am the lone maverick (one who makes an independent stand, n) among the others who idolize her. Then again, this dog has not stolen any of their toys…yet. In fact, she shares her toys with them, including my tennis ball. Mrs. Gewdhausen arranges play dates for DOG and the others. She provides the best treats when the thief has a get-together. Mrs. Gewdhausen still invites me over to play. She is oblivious to the tennis ball incident. I force my owner to decline her invitation by feigning illness.
Occasionally I reminisce about how much fun DOG and I used to have frolicking in her backyard. Sometimes we’d swim in her clear-blue pool. Often, we’d play with my tennis ball. These memories are so vivid and fresh in my mind. My feelings about DOG are dichotomous (contradictory, adj) as my current animosity is pitted against my joyful past experiences. I must shake my head to remind myself of DOG’s heinous crime and obvious pompousness. Until DOG agrees to return my tennis ball, I vow never to associate with her again.
I knew I had to get out of there fast. I had planted the explosive under the conference room table and the Council was about to arrive. Even if I was disguised as a maid, the Council was too smart to be fooled as easily as the other loyalists in the building. They may be despicable, but they’re not stupid.
Allow me a moment to explain my very unique situation. I was recruited off of the streets at age five to be a part of the R.A.G.E., or the Retaliation Against the Goslan Empire. We are a society made up of mavericks (n; rebels), dedicated to bring about the fall of the oppressive Goslan government. Julien Goslan was the founder of the totalitarian oligarchy; the founder of the Council who believes they have the divine right to decide what is best for us as a people. They treat us like cattle. Our lives have become mundane (adj; repetitive) and nearly unlivable; for the people of R.A.G.E., anyways. Unfortunately, our society has been split into a dichotomy (n; split into to contradictory groups); there are those of us who are unhappy with being told what to do, and there are those who have an infallible faith in what the Goslan Empire decides for us. Those who choose to obey the will of the Council are lauded (v; praised highly) and given a comfortable place in society, but we the free thinkers are too intelligent for such bribery.
Saul, the founder and leader of R.A.G.E., has concocted a plan that will free us from these invisible chains. I was given the charge of infiltrating the headquarters of the Council and planting explosive jelly under the table in the meeting hall of the Council. I was at first very skeptical of such an excruciatingly simple plan to topple the government, but Sol assured me that it was what was needed in order to create a brief period of anarchy, which would provide a feasible (adj.; possible) opportunity for R.A.G.E. to establish a democracy for the people; anything more complicated would simply be extraneous (adj.; not forming an essential or vital part). I love and trust Saul; he has been like my father for the past sixteen years, ever since I joined the organization. I have been trained as his number one assassin and I’ve killed and will kill countless times for him. I am ready to give my life for him and for the furthering of the plight of the people.
I ran through the doors and ran through the hall until I heard several voices. I slowed down to a fast walk and I passed the Council themselves as they were on their way to their death. I couldn’t help but smile as I passed them; they were much too distracted with each other to recognize me for who I was. After they had closed the doors to their meeting, I knew the moment would come soon. I started a dead sprint towards the staircase as I heard the room explode behind me and the pungent (adj.; sharp smell) stench of smoke filled the entire floor. Alarms went sounded and the sprinklers watered the floor with their tears as the Council had taken their last breath.
I felt an inundating (adj.; overwhelming) sense of euphoria as I escaped the panicking building and got into the R.A.G.E. getaway van that was waiting for me. I was surprised to see Saul himself driving me back to headquarters. “Saul! You are much too important to be transporting me back to HQ! What if they catch us?” I said as I was taking off the maid disguise in the back of the van. He replied, “Oh, they’re not going to catch us. I’m going to turn you in.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Surely he was joking. “What are you talking about, Saul? Now is our chance to create the democracy we’ve always dreamed about. This is our chance to make a standard of living based on the consensus (n; decision reached by a group as a whole) of the people! No one can tell us what to do anymore!”. Saul laughed a sinister, painful laughed. “You’re so gullible, Michiko. Ever since you were a little girl, you believed in the plight of the people. Don’t you see? The people don’t know what they want. The Goslan Empire was on the right track when they took control of the masses. In fact, they were possibly the best leaders we could have asked for. They got almost as near as they could to creating a utopia, or have you not noticed that we were the only ones who created conflict and strife? They had only made one mistake in their governing: I wasn’t in charge. It’s too late for the people to go back to free will because they have been told what to do for so long. Now it’s just a matter of who gets to tell them what. And you’ve just cleared the path for me to be just that someone. Bringing in the murderer of the Council will win me the approbation (n.; approval) of the people. Now nothing can stop me from owning this world.”
I had to sob. There was nothing left to do. I had betrayed the people I loved so much. I dedicated my life to an evil man. I blindly obeyed his every whim with no question; I had become the very thing I had fought against. I was nothing more than a tool, a weapon of murder. Now the rest of the world would have to pay for my naivety. As I rode to my execution, I realized that at least I would not live long enough to see the prison I helped create for my brothers and sisters.
It really didn’t seem feasible (adj possible) to get
approbation (n approval) to ride our skateboards through the mall. Actually, we knew it wouldn’t be lauded (praised highly v), but that was extraneous (not relevant adj) to us. We were considered mavericks (rebel adj/n) and there was nothing that would stop us from shooting through the main corridor of the mall. We came to a consensus (an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole n) to inundate (overwhelm v) the people with a pungent (smell or sharp taste adj) odor. So, we took garlic butter and lard, mixed them together, then sprayed them all over ourselves. It was just an idea we had to try and break up the mundane (everyday, worldly as opposed to spiritual adj) of this very boring shopping center. We had mapped out the routes we were going to take, because we were performing a dichotomy (branching into two parts – especially contradictory ones adj) to confuse the authorities. Now is the big moment we go as fast as we can through the building and ran away even faster. All seemed to have gone well and as planned, but security got this shot.
Tanya’s Journal
January 6, 2009
I run everywhere. I don’t have time to work out so I run. I run through my house, to my car, and even in this case through the Comfort Inn in Denver. I also run for Sean Martin’s approbation(noun, approval). That man is amazing, his maverick(rebel,adj) attitude towards life. Gosh, I wish I could be with him. I just got back from eating the continental breakfast where I ate a very pungent(sharp taste,adj) blueberry bagel. This entry is going nowhere, so I guess I’ll write later.
January 9, 2009
I’m still in Denver on behalf of my National Business Convention. I’ve seemed to attract some attention on behalf of a woman in a suit running down the crowded downtown Denver streets. On the way to my meeting this morning, I was stopped by very good looking man. He asked if it would be feasible(possible,verb) for him to take me to dinner. I kindly declined because of my obsession with Sean, who just happens to be at this convention. I just wish he would laud(praise, verb) me a little more often. I feel like I am invisible to this wonderful man. I’m inundated(overwhelmed,verb) by the thoughts of not ever being with Sean. Why can’t we just be together? I’m gonna go run to the coffee shop and try to clear my mind.
January 10, 2009
Well, today is my last day in Denver, and I have still failed to catch Sean’s attention. I just got back from the mundane(mediocre,adj) breakfast at the Comfort Inn. I am getting really tired of being here. I find myself taking extraneous(unnecessary,adj) paths through the hotel, hoping to somehow run into Sean and spark a conversation. I ran through every floor and until I reached the dichotomy(branching into two parts,noun), where I would just run up to the next floor. I never found him. I finally reached a consensus(opinion reached by several groups,noun) after talking to my mom about this obsession I had. I guess I will never get to be with Sean…
She could hear her parents’ marriage breaking into a dichotomy (n; branching into two contradictory parts). Her mother was lauded (v; praised highly) for her lavish cocktail parties while her father was a man who appreciated the mundane (adj; worldly, everyday) side of life. She never understood how they became a couple in the first place and how they had made it this long. She remembered the times she wished her parents would split up for a number of reasons, but now that it might actually happen, there was nothing she feared and dreaded more. She wished she could tell them how she felt, but she knew her opinion was extraneous (adj; not relevant). Memories from her childhood inundated (v; flooded) her mind. She went to a time before her mother saw her refusal to be a cheerleader as an attempt to be a maverick (n; rebel, nonconformist) of some sort and when she did not have to strain to gain her father’s approbation (n; approval).
Her memory was so strong she could smell the pungent (adj; sharp taste or smell) scent of the salt water. That day at the beach was rare and something she would never forget. Her mother made a small little picnic and didn’t even wear any make-up. Her father brought his camera and captured their feelings on camera. His talent was so raw that a feat so momentous of capturing every detail did not only seem feasible (adj; possible), it refused to daunt him.
Her mother was incredibly paranoid and wouldn’t let her too close to the ocean. She could play in the sand as long as her mother was nearby. She had learned not to argue and just accept her mother’s overprotection. However, when the beach cleared and the water was still, she couldn’t accept it any longer. She did not need a consensus (n; an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole) from both her mother and father, she just went in by herself. She waded for a while until she could her mother shouting from land. As she was about to swim in, she heard her father consoling her mother, assuring her she was safe. She watched and understood why they were together. She only wished she could take them back to that moment so they too could remember why.
Kishin
She ran for her life, not because of some other human, but a monster. She could not comprehend what would happen if she were to be caught by that demon, the only thing she did know was that if she ran long enough, hard enough and fast enough, the creature’s feeding approbation (n. approval) would not be fulfilled.
Sweat dripped down her neck. The beads of white reflected the lights in the window. She panicked excessively as she turned corner after corner. Fear inundated (v. to overcome) her mind. For some reason she felt a feeling of insanity near her. That entity standing next to her, around her, above her. Unable to shake this, she walks into a room with a mirror. As she washes her face and looks up, her reflection was marked with the seven eyes of god. It smiled at her with an inhuman grin while she was stiffened with fear. The reflection came out of the mirror and bit off her face. She grabbed the closest thing to her and smashed the mirror into pieces. As far as hallucinations go, that was by far the worst one she had experienced. After a period of thinking and coming to a consensus (n. a decision reached) she thought that it was best to continue.
She then came to a dichotomy. (n. a branching into two contradictory parts) This fork in the road caused her to stop and quickly choose which way to go. Deciding to go right, she then came to a stair case leading to the upper levels. The idea of running to the rooftop seemed feasible (adj possible).
After running up several flights of stairs, she collapsed on the roof. The pungent (adj, sharp smelling) smell of death had filled the world. It had become dark, the only lights were what lit up the streets. There was a whisper in the dark, the cry for Alice had echoed through the night. She tried to block out the extraneous (adj unnecessary ) noise. It continued for what seemed like forever. And then at the peak of its droning, it had stopped. The mundane( adj habitual) idea of that demon being behind her came to mind. She jerked backwards as fast as she could looking for what was not there. Thinking that she was hallucinating again, Alice turn back around.
There in front of her was the maverick (n rebel) of the world, Eibon. He lauded (v to praise) her for making it this far. She could see his eyes staring at her under his wrapped face. The seven eyes of god were tattooed on his body. The odd thing was that he hadn’t killed her yet. Alice thought why.
She asked, “Why haven’t you ended my life yet?”
He replied, ” I already have…” With the thought running through her mind, she didn’t accept it. She charged at him with all her might. She just walked right through him. He left her to walk this purgatory, wonder around the world for the rest of eternity.
I had received the tennis ball along with an approbation(n. official approval/commendation) from the heads of the service. I was a member of the CIS(Canine Intelligence Service) and had been serving for about 6 months. The CIS protects the natural dichotomy(n. division into to parts) between cats and dogs as pets. They worked hand in had with the FIS(Feline Intelligence Service) and due to general consensus(n. majority of opinion) they did a good job. The FIS handled things like cracking down on illegal catnip smuggling and the CIS handled things like security and bodygaurd work. I was a junior operative so I got the mundane(n. ordinary) job. Guarding a low-level VIP in a low risk area. I hate babysitting. The VIP was a preacher, who liked to laud(n. a song of praise) about life and the good things in the world. Naive fool. He really bugged me. But what is a dog to do. I had to play nice and chase the tennis ball like a good little puppy. Even biting his ankles wasn’t feasible.(adj. capable of being done, effected, or accomplished) it would likely just make him through me out. The first thing I had to do was get rid of all the extraneous(adj. irrelevant) hiding places for assassins. I conveniently dropped a few “kibbles” (they were really miniature explosives) behind every couch and under every bed. Then I went to the preacher and endeared myself to him by inundating(v. to flood with water) him with drool. Nasty. When I finally let him push me off, I went outside to inspect the perimeter. I was hit with a pungent(adj. acrid) smell that could only be the smell of my instructor. His name was “Bubbles” but don’t let the name fool you. He is the Canine equivalent of steel. He had come to check up on me and see how I was doing. He is one heck of a maverick(n. a loner) too. He once ran through a fight and took out the leader of the opposing side with one bite to the neck.
Amy is boring this afternoon, and her mom and dad went to some place that she doesn’t know. So she decides to go to the beach without their approbation (approval noun). She wants to inundate (cover overspread with water verb) in such a hot day. She knows that her best friend Sarah likes it, too. They always have consensus (harmony noun) idea all the time. Both of them are also a maverick (a lone dissenter noun), if someone does something against them, they will say something pungent (caustic adj) even they are only seven. They are still small, they don’t know what is feasible (capable of being done adj). It is really a fun afternoon for them; everything is extraneous (not pertinent adj) with them. They feel like they can’t dichotomy (division into two parts noun) with this place. The laud (to praise verb) from the natural make them comfortable, they don’t care what will their parent do to them. They think everyone is mundane (common adj), only the nature can understand them. But their parent find out that what did they do during the afternoon and they all get grounded by a month.
(Picture 3)
My mom never gave her approbation (noun, approval) of me running in the house, but today on my 16th birthday her words couldn’t stop me from being a maverick (noun, a rebel)! I had 6 hours until the party of my life, and my parents and I had made a consensus (noun, an agreement) 4 months ago that I could invite 60 people and could rent out an awesome space. My parents and I hadn’t split into a dichotomy (noun, two separate parts) about the decorations, or anything we had been on the same page the entire time. Well 4 months later here I am, getting pumped for my night to come! As I looked out the window of my room I saw an extraneous (adjective, not belonging) limo pull up, is it for me?! I thought to myself that today anything is feasible (adjective, possible). I ran down my stair as fast as lightning, and an amazing feel inundated me (verb, to overwhelm). I ran outside and was greeted by my parents, I asked if that was my ride to the party and my parents said yes! I began to laud (verb, to give excessive praise) them! Not only was I going to have an awesome party, I was going to have an awesome ride there! To make my day better my mom informed to that this was a mundane (adjective, earthly) limo! I was going to be riding in style and also be helping our environment! The only thing that was pungent (adjective, a sharp smell), fishy, why was the back garage closed? We normally leave it open, could it my new car?! We will have to see………
Image #3
John didn’t know why those helicopters were chasing that girl, but at that moment, he was just worried about what could happen to him. After he had gotten in his room, he realized something was odd about the girl, like that she was running at almost 20 m.p.h. As he tried to reach a feasible (adj;possible) conclusion in his mind, he just only noticed that his door had been smashed open, and that the girl had a gun pointed at his head. He saw the police come through next, and just like that, he realized he was being used as a barganing chip. He was inundated (verb;overwhelm) by all of the different conclusions, when the girl threw him over her shoulder, and jumped out the window. He then noticed the pungent (noun;sharp taste) of blood in his mouth, and then…nothing. When he finally came to, he realized he was in a run down house, surrounded by a group of ragatey girls and boys; most of them didn’t look a day over 18,” so just about my age”, John thought. They seemed to be trying to make a consensus (noun; an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole) about what to do with him. The debate seemed to have become a dichotonomy (noun;branching into two parts). Out of the crowd, John recognized the girl who had all but taken him hostage,which John found filled him with a extraneous (adj; not relavant) sense of hatred. As John tried to get up, he fell, wich caught the attention of the group, as they rushed to grab him. The girl motioned for the rest of them to back off, as she leaned down to face John. It was at that point that John saw her sad and watery eyes, something he had not noticed. To John, the whole situation was far from mundane (adj;worldly). Then he realized why she was so odd; he knew her. Then she hugged him, which caught John comletely off his guard. Then all of it came back to John; the numerous people he had killed, the battles he had fought, and the people he had loved, all scince the age of six. She was Violet, and she was his sister. She explained she fought for approbation (noun; approval) to rescue him from virtual bubble they had constructed to hold those like him, the mavericks (noun; nonconformists) who chose to fight the fascist regime. He lauded (verb; to praise highly) them all for their courage, but especially his sister. As he sat down at the virtual map, she took her place as his second in command as he led his troops and prepared for a long couple of weeks. But, then again, leading a revolution is no small task.
So it was a Thursday.
No. Did I leave on a Sunday? Yes, it was a Sunday. I remember realizing what I had lost after picking up fried chicken from Ma & Pa’s Chicken. Or did I get that on Saturday? No, I always get it on Sunday. But how many days have I been driving? I spent the night a couple times.. how many times? Did I drive through the night at all? I don’t remember. I have no idea what day it is.
That diner was the last place to look. If it wasn’t there, it wasn’t anywhere. But where was the diner? I squinted, like that would help me see into my memory. It was no use, I would have to ask for directions. I exited the freeway to find a gas station only to see Chandler’s Diner staring me right in the face. I laughed at the coincidence straight from a bad novel. Maybe when I walked in I would meet a fascinating person. That was the cliche when you ate at a diner right? Ah yes, if that happened I could write a book that would be stuck on the dusty shelf in the back of a small bookstore, ready to be discovered by a little girl or a small old man looking for something just as different as everything else. If that makes any sense at all.
I was pretty excited to be met by some odd character, passing through town for some obscure reason, ready to tell me their story. It had to happen, diners were never mundane (adj. dull). I pulled open the door, which was surprisingly heavy. The pungent (adj. sharp (taste or smell)) scent of overcooked burgers and mediocre pie ushered me into the room. I looked about, and the room was virtually empty. It was completely different than when I came here last just looking for good directions. It wasn’t bustling, it wasn’t loud. It was a little chilly from the lack of body heat, and the only sounds were sounds from the kitchen. There was only one customer in the diner. He looked about nineteen, and like he was trying to appear to be a maverick (noun. rebel). He wasn’t though. I could see it in his shifty eyes and uneasy hands that pushed a straw back and forth through a strawberry milkshake. Rebels don’t drink strawberry milkshakes. Maybe he was my diner cliche! With this thought moving through my mind, I sat down in the booth across from him. He straightened up as if to challenge me, but then slumped right back down into his shake. It was very feasible (adj. possible) that his clothes looked so hardcore to hide the fact that he was so opposite. So I decided I wouldn’t ask him about it. I decided to ask him something extraneous (adj. not relevant) to his attire. Besides, if he was one of my cliches, he would tell me his story eventually. “You live around here?” I asked him. He looked up at me with a little malice. “No.” was the answer he gave. Hmm… maybe if I started talking, he would talk back. “I’m not either.” I said. “It’s actually a little crazy, why I’m here.” He looked interested, but tried to be nonchalant. “And why’s that?” “I’m looking for a photograph. I’ve been looking for it for days. I’ve gone from bar to gas station to motel to park to grocery store to diner looking for it. Can’t seem to find it. This is the last place I’m looking though. It’s the only other place it could be.” He had sat up all the way in his seat now. He seemed to have approbation (noun. approval) for my quest. “Was it a really expensive photograph? Was it of something rare? Was it stolen?” I smiled a little, “Nah. It was just of a woman I once loved. She was running down the hall towards me and she looked so beautiful right then and there, I just had to take a picture. ” He looked at me like I was some sort of crazy person. Perhaps I was. He spoke, “You’re insane. You once loved her? You don’t even love her anymore and you’re still looking for a picture of her? Did she die?” “No.” “Then why?” I had never thought about that before. “I’m not sure. I dunno, I had loved it and cherished it for so long, perhaps it just became part of me.” At this, he laughed. “Oh please. Part of you? No way. You just haven’t moved on. You’re scared of something.” I was inundated (verb. to flood) with vulnerability, which I masked with anger. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Scared? What do I have to be afraid of??” “I don’t know! Change? Loving again? Instability? How should I know, man? Why are you even bothering me? I was keeping to myself and you just come spilling all your crap to me.” Oh God. He was right.
…I was a diner cliche.
We sat in silence for a while. He was stewing in his anger at first, but then seemed to be proud of himself for bestowing some kind of holy wisdom upon me. I don’t know if he expected me to laud (verb. to praise highly) him, but that wasn’t going to happen. At that point, the waitress came up to me and asked me what I wanted. I tried to distract myself from my awkwardness by trying to choose between the dichotomy (noun. branching into two parts – especially contradictory ones) of pie choices. I asked the kid what he thought- blueberry or cherry, and the consensus (noun. opinion reached by a group as a whole) was blueberry. The waitress didn’t take long at all and soon I was eating my pie in awkward silence. When I was finished, I put money on the table and walked over to the waitress, who was wiping a table that was already clean. “Excuse me, ma’am. Have you seen a photograph lying around here lately? One of a girl running down a hallway?” I didn’t expect a yes, but to my surprise she said, “Yeah hon sure thing. I loved it, so I tacked it up on the wall. Is it yours?” “Yes ma’am.” “Well then hold on one sec.” She put down her rag and walked over to the wall and wiggled a tack out of a picture. She brought to me and I stared at it. There it was. The cause of all my latest problems, gas bills, and sleepless nights. “Thank you. Oh and, what day is it?” “Wednesday. The twenty-third.” So I had left on a Sunday. I walked over to the door and on my way out, I threw the picture at the kid, who caught it. I looked at him, “Get new clothes, get out of this town, and whatever you do, don’t end up like me.”
And with that, I walked out to the rest of my life. One filled with change, love, and instability. And I was ready for it.
For the 4th night in a row she woke up in a cold sweat. Her eyes foccused on the clock as she tried to slow her breathing. 3:42. Why now? For months she had slept in peace without the nightmares. Why were they coming back all of a sudden? There was no use trying to sleep now. As she walked to her computer, Amber wondered how long it would take for this to drive her insane. She had tried everything from sleeping pills to hypnosis. She had gone to the fanciest doctors that had been lauded(v.- highly praised) by millions of people; but nothing ever worked. At least not permanently. And when the nightmares did return, the memories were just as vivid as they were 3 years ago when it happened. They inundated(v.- overwhelmed) her thoughts and had basically taken over her life. As she closed her eyes she was back in the room. Just watching tv in her old apartment, doing the same mundane(adj.- everyday) things that she did on every sunday morning. Right after she had settled down with an afternoon snack, there was a knock at the door. Since she wasn’t expecting any company and all visitors had to check with the front desk anyway, she figured it was just a delivery of some sort and she could get it later. Sure enough, the knocking stopped. Little did she know that her world was about to change. Not 10 minutes later, the knocking came again. Now she was starting to get a little worried. Who could need to see her this badly at 10 am on a Sunday? and why hadn’t they called first? She got up and walked to the kitchen, trying to debate whether or not to answer the door. Before she could even get her thoughts together, there was a loud noise and a crash. Amber screamed and was grabbed from behind before she got the chance to turn around. “Don’t say a single word.” a rough voice whispered in her ear. She was told to stay quiet and face the wall while the man tied her to a chair. Really? She couldn’t see how it was feasible(adj.- possible) for her to just sit there and watch him trash her home. Amber didn’t know what came over her, but people always say that you can do extraordinary things in dangerous situations. Amber was able to get herself free and make her way towards the door; but he saw her. She tried to run down the hall but he was faster than her, grabbing her once again and choking her so she couldn’t make any noise. She fought as long as she could, but eventually ran out of energy. Noting her lack of struggle, he threw her to the ground and pushed something cold and hard against the back of her head. Immediately she knew what it was. He had a gun. “One thing. That’s all you had to do. I didn’t want it to come to this, but you didn’t listen.” he hissed. Amber was nauseous. She couldn’t breath and sweat was pouring off of her. She could die. There was no one around. He could kill her. He took the gun from the side of her head and struck her with it repeatedly. At that moment, for reasons that she still cannot explain, her energy returned. She threw herself to her feet and swiped the gun from her attacker’s hand. Suddenly, she was in control. He hit, kicked, and choked her trying to release the gun but she held onto it. Her life really did depend on it. When he pulled back from his latest round of physical abuse, she lost it. She wrapped her finger around the trigger and pulled. Then she ran. By the time she got to the front desk, she was hysterical. The police were called and all involved were taken to the hospital. Amber soon learned that she would need to testify in court. She knew that she would win and she knew that it was self defense but still, the thought of court made her skin crawl. She had shot someone. She didn’t need approbation(n.- approval) or consolation. She didn’t want to be considered a maverick.(n.- rebel;nonconformist) She just wanted to forget the whole thing even happened. All she needed was security. All court would do was bring up painful moments in her life, and focus on extraneous(adj.- not relevant) details. However, she knew it was something that would have to happen and she endured. The court dragged on, and at one point there was an unexpected dicotomy(n.- branching into two parts) in the jury. One side seemed to think that although her attacker lived, Amber should have tried harder to seek the authorities before she resorted to shooting. However, after the minor setback the concensus(n.- an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole) was that Amber’s action was completely justified; and that was that. After the trial she tried to let go of everything that reminded her of that horrible ordeal. She moved, changed her locks and numbers, and installed a security system. Yet still she was haunted. So here she sat at 4 am hoping the pungent(adj.- sharp smell) lavender would rock her to sleep. As always, it didn’t. Some days she wondered how things would be if she had fought harder for justice. If she had gone to all the counselors and phychiatrists. She so many what ifs flying around in her head, that they could stretch for miles. Still, she thought she had done the right thing by letting the past be the past. So the question was, why couldn’t she just be free?
I hate the beach.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I guess I used to like it. When I was little, I mean. But that was like, 6 years ago, at least. Then again, I feel like I was little until this year. Is that how all teenagers feel? Because I feel like I was an idiot last year.
This year I discovered the color black, and I’m not turning back, ever. Black is the absence of color, actually. Most people assume that about white, but white is all the colors. At least, when it comes to light. I read that it a book once. So I guess I’m fascinated with the philosophical aspects of black. Plus, it sends an image, y’know? Like, I’m hardcore. I’m a maverick (noun). Don’t mess with this. And as an added bonus, it freaks out other parents when they see me wearing all black. They think I’m a cutter or something. Or that I’m gonna whip out a gun and shoot their kids.
Naw, I’m not like that. But I guess I sort of pretend to. It’s kind of fun, pretending to be someone you’re not. Or being a more dramatic version of yourself. Haven’t you ever wished that you could be different, but you lacked the guts? Well, this year I decided that was stupid. And extraneous (adjective) to my happiness. So I just started being dramatic. And kinda weird. My parents definitely didn’t give their approbation (noun), but who cares? Seriously, what teenagers care what their parents think? The thing is, we secretly do care. We care so much it kind of hurts. But to cover up for that, we pretend we don’t. Being a teenager is all about smoke and mirrors, kid. That’s what I think, anyway.
Back to my story. We’re at the beach. We voted on what to do today. The consensus (noun) was a trip to the beach, which isn’t really a beach. It’s a man-made lake. God. It’s so fake. I wanted to go to a movie, but my parents frowned and said no. My little sisters start screaming as they run to the water. It’s licking their legs as they stand in it, and they shriek because it’s so cold. The beach has a kind of pungent (adjective) smell–it smells like sand and water and seagull poop. I’ve never liked the beach. The water’s always gross, and the sand gets in between my toes and never comes out, and there are always a hundred billion people there. But this time there aren’t. Probably because it’s kind of cold. And not very sunny. In fact, the sun’s gonna be setting soon.
My mom hands me the camera, and I feel used. Like I’m just the photographer. Not supposed to have fun. Who does she think she is? I’m important! But I accept it and start taking pictures of everything BUT my little sisters playing. I find a branch with a flower on it, and snap a photo. A dragonfly, a dead crab, an old chip bag, are my models. This is actually kind of getting fun. I take a picture of the bridge, with the cars passing over. It turns out pretty good, actually. I find a really pretty tree and take a picture of that, too. I shyly go over to my dad and show him. He lauds (verb) me, which surprises and pleases me. He tells me it’s feasible (adjective) that I have a talent like my aunt Shelley. I turn away so he doesn’t see the light in my eyes, the brightness.
The camera has ceased to feel mundane (adjective) in my hands. It’s not really just a piece of machinery. It’s an artist itself. It freezes the world. I mean, have you ever stopped to think about how really awesome cameras are? It’s kind of inundating (verb), if you really think hard about it. I hear my little sisters laughing, and I turn and see the perfect shot. The perfect second. I press the button, and it is captured forever.
I guess my life is kind of dichotomic (adjective) right now. I could go two ways. Do I want to be dramatic and depressed forever? Or could I be something more than that? I look at the picture, and I can’t stop smiling.
I love the beach.
Tina was preparing for the marathon two weeks from now. This was her only chance to become famous. It was her only chance that people would laud (to praise highly verb) her. She noticed the pungent (sharp taste adj) of sweat. She realized she needed water to hydrate herself. She was trying to come to a feasible (possible adj) conclusion as to how to win the marathon. She had practiced day in and day out. The neighbors were coming to a consensus (an opinion noun) to what she was doing. They were arguing about what she was doing within minutes. The debate seemed to become a dichotomy (branching into two parts noun).
Tina could just imagine it, the day when she crossed the finish line in 1st place. The approbation (approval adj) from the crowd as her name was chanted over and over again. The mundane (common adj) practice will pay off at the finish line. She zoned out all the extraneous (not relevant adj) sound as she pictured the perfect moment. Tina thought if she lost she would be considered a maverick (outcast noun). She was inundate (overwhelmed verb) why this race had affected her this much. She continued running along the corridors training for the big moment.
Imperfection
Rehearsal dinners, I’m not quite sure why everyone is so completely obsessed with these. My mother has been dieting for a whole month just so she can fit into a nice pink dress for this rehearsal dinner. It’s not even going to be a great dinner, I mean some are going to get fish and others chicken, really creative. The only taste in the food will come from some pungent (adj: strong taste or smell) red sauce that doesn’t necessarily compliment any of the side dishes. But no matter how bad the food will be being the sister of the groom I of course have to make a speech. The fact that I am a terrible public speaker was not considered, and everyone thinks it’s feasible(Adj; possible) for me to simply be witty and sweet and give a great speech, I bet I prove them wrong. My dad is supposed to introduce me, and I can’t help but laugh because my mom made him wear a suit and it is a little small. My dad starts to get up and I realize that I am about to speak in front of at least seventy-five people and have no clue what to say. I guess I could talk about how opposed to this marriage my mother was from the start, or how she choked on her orderve when my brother broke the news. That may be a bit to visual for a rehearsal dinner, because I can still see my Uncle Eddie attempting to do the Heimlich maneuver. Anyways, I think I’m the only one amused by that visualization and a simplistic story is definitely going to be better then some perennial sappy speech. This is wise because I have to speak before the dinner is served so everyone will just be cranky if I take forever. Suddenly it dawns on me the exact story I will tell, but first I’ll have to give the bride’s side of the family some background on my brother and his relationship with me. This is the best story in my mind of my brother, because it doesn’t dwell on his multiple accomplishments but simply recollects the first time I met his soon to be wife.
I begin to run through the story I want to tell in my head beginning with background on my family, so people would better grasp the comedy within the first meeting. Suddenly my dad begins to cry and shoves a microphone in my face. I force myself up not knowing what to say and so I just open my mouth and words begin to stumble out. “Hi, um well my brother was a pretty nice guy growing up, which was really lucky considering that I was the only girl in the house with three boy cousins, one brother, a sports crazed dad and a mom who never said it but really wanted me to be just like my brother. But I can’t blame my mom for wanting this, because my brother was perfect growing up and he’s still pretty perfect. He was the valedictorian of his class and he went to med school. My parents were hoping I too would become an obsessed med student but they let me know they’d settle for a lawyer if that’s what I really wanted. However, blood makes me nauseous and conflict makes my head hurt so neither of those occupations were an option for me simply due to physical and mental limitations. Of course, my parents didn’t quite see it that way when I tried to explain my dilemma, it didn’t help that I really did not want to be either of those occupations.” I stop to take a breath and recognize that I have just babbled on about extraneous (adj;not relevant) details that have little to do with the point of my story. But I don’t have a lot of control over what’s coming out of my mouth as the words just keep spilling out.
“Anyway, I guess I’ve always been compared to my brother because he was always Mr. wonderful, but I’ve never felt pressure to be like my him because I’ve known for a long time that he may be smart and cute but I have appealing qualities as well. I’m not considered the nicest person, but my sarcasm can’t be rivaled, and my interesting clothing options always turn heads. I love my brother but I truly think everyone needs to finally realize that yes he is fantastic, but he is just human. The family consensus (n;an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole) that Mikey is the picture of perfection needs to be recognized as false. My dad realized imperfection in him a long time ago when his dream of a son with an athletic scholarship was impeded by my brother’s hurt shoulder. But all everyone else focused on was the fact that he had already won three division championships in wrestling. The only thing my brother has ever done that was the least bit strange was bring home Jessica. This sounds like a very ordinary name but she was and still is somewhat of a maverick (n; nonconformist or rebel) and anything but normal. Not only was Jessica not perfect but she was a little crazy when my family first met her.” That may have been the wrong choice of words considering everyone in the room is frowning but all I can do is stand victim as my words lead me through my memories.
“When my big brother Mikey brought home Jessica it was for Thanksgiving on their break from Yale. Mikey was able to go to Yale because though he didn’t receive an athletic scholarship he still received a full academic scholarship which only increased his perfection. My family is known for judging books by their covers and so that is exactly what happened with her. Also she brought this funny white dog with her that proudly carried a tennis ball in its mouth. My parents are not dog people, because my mom has always had this harsh allergy to anything with too much hair. So they made Jessica tie her dog outside the front door on the porch. After this the two of them came into the house and Jessica was forced to meet our entire family, and it was obvious Mikey wanted approbation (n; approval) from the family for his new girlfriend. My mom has been making Thanksgiving dinner as long as I can remember and my uncles, aunts, all my cousins, grandparents and all the second and third cousins came to eat free food. The poor girl had to be exhausted after meeting all of them, but she was pretty nice and when I finally met her I got a really good look at her clothes. She was wearing a long orange scarf with this loose skirt and brown boots and had amazingly curly hair. I thought her outfit was very cool and eclectic but you could tell my mother wasn’t pleased with her. My mom had always pictured my brother bringing home a blue eyed, blonde haired, lawyer or doctor wearing pearl earrings and a cardigan, and this Jessica girl was anything but that.
Finally, dinner was ready and we all sat down to eat and as we bowed our heads to pray the question of religion was raised. My family and my mother especially were devout Catholics, I’m pretty sure my mother made me confess about a million times hoping that God would repent me of my sin of bad grades. Anyway, it was not my mom that brought up religion but one of my rude cousins who just yield out the question from across the table. Before Jessica was even able to answer Mikey said, “Well actually Jessica is Jewish and was raised in a very religious home just like ours.” At that point a dichotomy(n; branching into two parts- especially contradictory ones) was created, my mother on one side and my brother on the other. My mom had always stressed the importance of religion and my brother was dating a girl who believed in religion just not the one mom had in mind. At this statement my mother said she had to get the turkey although it was already sitting on the table. And right as she got up we heard this high pinched bark and Jessica’s dog jumped up onto the table and landed in the mash potatoes, setting his ball in the cranberry sauce.” As I stop for yet another survey of the damage my uncontrollable words have created I am relieved to find that some family members are smiling and others are beginning to chuckle. I continue with a little more confidence then ever before.
“By this point I was in love with Jessica, not only had she made our usual and mundane(adj; worldly as opposed to spiritual, everyday) table conversation truly interesting but she had also made my mother sweat, and my mom only does that when she gets nervous. Why she was nervous I don’t know because personally I knew the day would come when my perfect brother would depart from his paragon life and do something my parents didn’t expect. Anyway after the dog was pulled out of the mash potatoes, I assured Jessica that it didn’t matter because those were always too dry to begin with. My dad even leaned over and thanked Jessica for being able to inundate (v; overwhelm;flood,submerge) our Thanksgiving with excitement for the first time in years. My mother was fairly nice about it after she went into the kitchen and had a good five-minute cry, which we all could hear. It wasn’t that mom was upset about Jessica she just was shocked Mikey had a serious girlfriend that she did not pick out or introduce hi to, and she always thought her mash potatoes were good so that bothered her too. And Jessica was overly polite and apologetic but you could tell Mikey was content with the visit and thought the situation was just as funny as I did. When the meal was finished everyone began to laud(v; praise highly) mom about how good he meal was even without the mash potatoes. And once they all gotten in their seats, ready for the football games to begin, Mikey asked me to come outside with him and Jessica. I was so relieved that he pulled me away for a minute because I really was not prepared to yell and smile and act like I understood or cared about the game of football.” Once again I stop but this time to simply take a breath because my story is almost finished and everyone is smiling, at last.
“When we got out to the front porch I knew that Mikey had something really important to say because he began to twiddle his thumbs, and that was a sign of something beyond a simple rescue from football mania. Jessica was smiling from ear to ear when Mikey told me that they had decided to get married but weren’t ready to tell the family just yet. Mikey told me that he and Jessica had been dating for a few months and knew they were right for each other. This literally thrilled me to no end, not because this was going to prove that Mikey was not the perfect son but because I felt like Mikey was finally doing something he believed in and that mom and dad had not implanted in his brain. I really wanted to rush into the living room and tell everyone the news but I was sworn to secrecy until Christmas, because that’s when they were going to present the news. Mikey wanted everyone to have time to absorb this initial visit before they were told about the engagement. I hugged both of them and sat outside with them for at least half an hour just getting to know Jessica. And the more I got to know her the more interesting I realized she was.” I have to stop at this point as I begin to tear up at the thought of my big brother marrying this great woman. All I can manage to squeeze out while holding back tears is, “I am so happy for the both of you, and Mikey now that you have Jessica you really are perfect.” As the glasses raise and the tears roll down my face all I can think is, what will I say at the wedding reception?
Felicity was on her way to her hotel room. As she began to inundate (overwhelm, verb) herself in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the group of men approaching her from behind. At their leaders approbation( approval, noun), they quickly ran up behind her and grabbed a hold of her. As they let her go in the middle of the circle of men, they started discussing whether or not to harm her or just take her stuff and leave, the group quickly split into two dichotomic (branching into two parts especially contradictory ones, adj.) sides. As they discussed this, Felicity noticed their pungent (sharp taste or smell, adj.) scent and wondered if they had ever taken a bath. She started to listen to their discussion and every time they said anything a single maverick ( rebel, noun) would always speak out against letting her free of harm. But try as he might the group finally came to a consensus (an opinion made by a group as a whole, noun) on what to do. It almost seemed feasible (possible, adverb) for her to get her stuff hidden, especially because her wriggling seemed extraneous ( not relevant, adverb) to the men. She devised a plan to escape with her things, so she started to laud (to praise highly) the men on capturing her so swiftly. The men fell for it quickly and she was able to make her way out of the circle subtly with her things by her side. Then she made a break for it and finally made it outside. Later a news report was being done and a witness said she had done it in a mundane (everyday, adj.) way, as if she had done it before. She later revealed that she worked undercover for the FBI and had been situations much like this one many times before… Then Felicity woke up.
“Go fetch Tito!”
My small, golden long-haired best friend ran to the other side of my yard to catch the tennis ball. He missed, like always, but he still got the ball and ran back to me. He had and alert look on his face, the way he always does when he smells the pungent(adj-sharp smell) smell of his doggy biscuits. I smiled with approbation (noun-approval) and tossed the miniature bone-shaped treat to him and he ate it in a flash. I threw his favorite toy across the lawn again and he ran to retrieve it. The ball landed with a thud on the thick grass and as he was about to grasp it in his mouth, he noticed the neighbor’s cat, Napoleon, strutting across the street. Tito abandoned his toy and sprinted after Napoleon.
“Tito, No!” But it was too late and wasn’t feasible(adj-possible) to stop him. As Tito ran across the street a dark green Honda Civic dashed around the corner. I heard a loud screech and then a thump, the driver had hit Tito. I ran to Tito aid, not concerned about the driver, and my heart inundated(verb-to overwhelm) with agony and remorse, my Tito was gone.
I picked up my dog and buried my face in his fur. I was interrupted by an irresponsible-looking teenage boy with a very confused look on his face. He had no idea what he had done.
“What happened to my wheels?”
“Your wheels? Are you serious? You just killed my dog!” I was screaming through streaming tears and he suddenly had an expression of grief that replaced his confusion.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t kn-” I ran back to my house carrying my dog before he could finish his words. I stumbled over the dead potted plant by the door but kept my balance. That ivy was extraneous(adj-irrelevant) at the moment, I only cared about my dog. I laid Tito on my dining room floor and prayed for this not to be real. One last tear rolled down my face and landed on Tito. He rustled and jumped up.
I was in shock. Tito had died, I had seen it myself. The car hit him and he fell to the ground. Tito let out an excited bark and darted toward the door to continue playing. My eyes were probably playing tricks on me and Tito just fainted at the sight of the dog. I stood up to get Tito, he wasn’t going outside for a while. I wiped my tears and flung them at the floor. They hit the plant and immediately the ivy transformed from a dark brown to a brilliant green.
“Did my tears do that?” I said to myself. Bringing things back to life wasn’t exactly a mundane(adj-everyday) activity. Tito barked and ran to his water bowl while I sprinted to the backyard to find the tomato plant I never watered. I wiped my cheek where some remaining tears were and touched the tomato vine. The vine shot up and sprouted three bright tomatoes.
The consensus(noun-majority) of my head was telling me that this wasn’t possible, but a tiny part was screaming “THIS IS AWESOME!!!” I decided to go with the amazed part of this dichotomy(noun-something split into two parts) and started running around my backyard looking for dead plants to resurrect.
But what am I supposed to do with my ‘ability’. Haha, that’s funny to say, I have an ability. I feel like a superhero, but I’m not going to stick with the normal ‘save the world’ idea. So what If I was being a maverick(noun-nonconformist), I think I’ll just use it whenever I want. There’s a lot less pressure on you when your entire existence doesn’t revolve around saving people. I kept walking around my backyard, lauding(praising-verb) myself for my pretty awesome reasoning skills, and kept resurrecting dead plants.
Image No. 1
There was little time left. Their foray into the earth never had a true approbation (n., approval) of the Headquarters, and now they must jump into the water to just get back home to Neptune. Their safe return was only feasible (adj., possible) if they could catch the ship, now disguised as sun, on the water. They must reach the ship before it completely submerges into the water. They ran to the water, but at the sight of the sunset over the turquoise water and golden sand under their feet, they were hopelessly distracted. The sheer beauty of the earth inundated (v., overwhelmed) their senses and they lost track of time and place.
The two scientists from Neptune were really a brother and sister team who were often lauded (v., praised) for their innovative method to explore other planets. When the subject of earth came up at the Headquarters, the consensus (n., an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole) among the elder’s council was that the brother and sister team, SL United, should head the first expedition. Actually, there was a dichotomy (n., branching into two parts) of opinion in the Headquarters itself. The elder’s council was opposed by the youth group who thought the military, not scientific, scout should examine the earth. Ultimately the youth group’s opinion was considered extraneous (adj., not relevant) and ignored. Still, there were some in the Headquarters who had reservations about sending two young scientists, who had inclination to be mavericks (n., rebel, nonconformists) to such a dangerous planet as the earth. At first, they said that they transformed themselves as young earthlings to blend in with human beings. Then the reports became shorter and further apart. So, instead of giving the SL United two earth years to explore, Headquarters called the team in within two weeks of their arrival. The brother and sister team had just one hour to pack their gears and get on the ship back to Naptune.
Upon receiving their orders, the brother and sister sadly packed their findings. They were sad not only because they had invested so much work into the project, but also because they had somehow come to love the subject of their investigation, the earth. With heavy hearts, they gathered all the things they collected such as the mundane (adj., everyday) items like glass vase, clothes, food items with pungent (adj., sharp taste or smell) odors, and pictures of buildings. They loaded it up to the earth vehicle called “car” and drove it to the beach toward the ship, and they thought they would embark on the journey back to Neptune. But instead of swimming toward the ship, they reached down to grab the sparkling sand. The sand fell through their hands back into the shimmering water. The brother and sister looked up and saw each other’s eyes. They knew they wanted to stay. Earth held everlasting beauty and life, and they chose life. They cried a little as they stood and watched their ship sunk into the water with the setting sun.
You’re not going to believe what I just saw. They said that there was no way it’s feasible (adj. possible) that there was a ghost in the hallway on the third floor. I know I’m a maverick (n. rebel) and and I lie a lot so no one’s going to believe me, but there was a ghost woman up there. We need to be in consensus (n. postion reached by a whole in a group.) about this. She had this pungent (adj. sharp smell) smell and it was horrible. she told me to laud (v. praise highly) or shed make my life miserable. It’s not mundane (adj. everyday) that I hear that. I tried to leave and she said that I needed her approbation (n. approval). This feeling of anxiousness just inundated (v. overwhelm) me. then she started spouting of words that were very extraneous (adj. not relevent). She started to dichotomy (v. split into two parts.) the parts started arguing so I ran, andnow I’m here, I can’t believe what happened.
I had to get my mothers approbation (approval) [v] to go outside to play with conner. It was the consensus (opinion reached by a group as a whole) [v] that I wasnt allowed to get on the computer, phone, t.v., or go out anywhere besides school by my parents ever since I got my last report card. However, there was a dichotomy (contradiction) [noun] when my father mentioned no extracurricular activites. My mother disagreed because she is more stressed than I am about getting accepted to college. She wants me to have everything I can possibly do to impress any college out there. But my father urged on, saying that that wasnt extraneous (relavent) [noun] at the moment, considering grades were more important than anything right now. My parents are always pushing every single thing on me, so I feel like I am always carrying a load around on my shoulders. They never even laud (praise) [verb] my successfullness. I am too inundated (overwhelmed) [verb] with everythng. Sports, clubs, grades….. well it is not feasible (possible) [noun] for only one person to have to do. I am done with it. I feel like I am forced to have to become a ‘maverick’ (rebel) [noun] just to show them that I am only human. I would like to be as mundane (ordinary) [adj] as my family would allow. But I changed my mind about the walk and headed towards my parents, pulling conner with me for moral support. I marched into the kitchen, the smell of their new wine imported from France, which I had purchased for their anniversery, filled the room. They had a pungent (sharp taste) [noun] for wine. However that is beside the point, I told them exactly what was on my mind, and from then on my life was changed. For better or worse, no one knows, but I was from then on allowed to lead my life as I wanted.
I am so excited that they threw me the ball. I am going to keep it in my mouth and never give it back. But if I don’t give it back, how can they throw it for me again. This is such a dichotmomy (n. branching into two contradictory parts). If I don’t give it back I won’t get their approbation (n. approval) either. When I do give them the ball back they really laud (v. praise) me and scratch my ears. But still there is something of a maverick (n. rebel) in me because I really want to keep the ball. Playing fetch though is the best way to keep my life from being mundane (adj. ordinary). I have the ball now and I feel really proud that I got it but I guess the fun part is going after it. It is fun having my ears blow in the wind as I run as fast as I can. I love watching my family as they become inundated (v. overwhelmed) with excitement when I get the ball and bring it back. I love the pungent (adj. sharp) taste of the ball after it has been in my mouth and has rolled through all kinds of things in the yard and at the park where we sometimes go. I can tell that the other dogs in the park get jealous that I have a tennis ball and they do not. I don’t know why I am giving all this extraneous (adj. not relevant) information. I just like to ramble like I like to fetch. Maybe I should get the consensus (n. opinion of a group) about whether I should keep the ball or bring it back to my family. I know to keep playing the game I should bring it back but it is still feasible (adj. possible) that I will just keep it to show off that I have it.
He was my first “love”, we were 7 years old, and we met earlier that day on the beach. We both knew it wasn’t feasible (adj. possible) and wouldn’t last forever, since we were both on vacation, but we decided together on a consensus (n. opinion reached by a group as a whole) that we would meet again on the beach later that night.We spent the day together on the beach building sand castles which got inundated (v. submerged) into the ocean. We talked about everyting also, all being extraneous (adj. not relevant) subjects but wecovered just about everything a 7 year old mind could think of. For a 7 year he was a very mundane (adj. worldyas opposed to spiritual, everyday). It was a challenge that would have to go against my parent’s approbation (n. approval) to go back to the beach again. We would have to transform into mavericks (n. rebel) for the night, if we wanted it to work. We knew one day we would start to dichotomy (v. split into two parts) so we had to use every moment together as if it was the last. For such a young age we were very matuere and very creative. We spent every moment together lauding (v to praise highly) eachtoher. He even brought me back a chocolate from his hotel room. but it had a pungent (adj. sharp taste) to it. We were 7 and crazy about eachtother. It’s so different when you’re younger. Everything was so simple, and you could love whoever you wanted. Now there’s there’s “The Game” you play when dating, or things get too complex. Other people get involved and it makes things worse, you forget that you’re the only two in the relationshi, not you and him and all of you two’s friends. Things should be as simple as they were when we were seven. I’m done playing the game, and figuring everything out in a relationship like it’s some puzzle, things should never be this esoteric. I wish we could all things could be as simple as they were when we were little.
Imagine the world could totally fall away, leaving only the things you wanted behind. Anything. Your wildest dreams, most coveted desires – anything feasible (adj; possible) or thinkable could come true.
I was feeling that right now. I felt so free.
Everything around me was extraneous (adj; not relevant). The only things that mattered were me, the free-flying feeling of exhilaration I felt, and the lime green tennis ball in my mouth. You got it. I’m a dog – not exactly the narrator a human would expect, for dogs don’t usually preach on the values and feelings that inundate (v; overwhelm) or exhilarate the mind.
I can see the gravel flying under my paws as I turn the corner. I’m not exactly your largest dog. Okay, I’m pretty small for my breed even. But I have a pretty mean sprint, and right now that’s all I’m doing. Sprinting. I’m flying across the ground blindly, just obeying that hound instinct lodged in the back of my brain. Smells and colors are whizzing by, like that huge splash of yellow (one of those big machines the Masters sit in that I like chasing on off-days) and the pungent (adj; sharp taste or smell) odor of human food and grease. Smells like McDonald’s.
I’m not tired yet. Maybe it’s all the energy I keep bottled up during the day. You see, my master is one of those old ones, all wrinkly and white-haired. She treats me well, but I get lonely and bored. Life in her quarters is just so… mundane (adj; everyday, boring). I live with two other dogs, my roommates you could say. They’re both frilly poodles. They sit around doing nothing all day, so I decided to take the other path… I’m known as the maverick (n; rebel) of the household. You got it, I’m not supposed to be out here and out of the house right now. I stole this tennis ball from Little Timmy across the street and now I’m running for all I’m worth. I don’t know where, but as far as these legs can take me.
Neighbors frown upon my bad behavior. Even the old Master granny disapproves sometimes, but usually she doesn’t mind too much. Rarely I receive approbation (n; approval) for my deeds, and no one ever lauds (v; praises highly) or praises me like granny’s other dogs for their excellent behavior. I’m sure that the poodles and Master will reach a consensus (n; opinion reached by a group as a whole) that I should be kept indoors for at least a week. Or be put on a leash. My mind is recoiling in thought of a leash… those terrible things are so uncomfortable and degrading. As a dog, you obey two instincts and forces – the power of instinct, and the power of your superiors. Although granny is pretty old, she’s still bigger and more superior, so I feel obligated to obey (sometimes). When she puts a leash on me, I need to obey. But all my hound instincts recoil at the thought of a snake-like hoop being put around my neck, being controlled by a tug and a pull from it. The result is a huge, mental mess as my decisions turn into a dichotomy (n; division into two parts).
Anyway, back to running. I’m thinking too much. I’m just a dog, sprinting away from the boring life with a tennis ball with all the worries leaving me with every bound I take.
This dog you see here is the greatest dog in the world, and Im going to prove it to you. It is a true maverick(strong;independent)noun to say the least. It is the general consensus(majority of opinion)noun that this animal is a great pet yet a wonderful free roaming beast. Yes folks their is nothing mundane(ordinary;common)adjective about this animal, for it is mans best friend. It gives off a pungent(biting;caustic) odor of awsomeness that anyone can smell from a mile away. It is feasible(understandable;workable)adjective yet however unlikley that an animal such as the cat could eventually take a dogs spot. That sentence may seem a bit extraneous(unnecessary)adjective but it was necessary. Dogs have my sincere approbation(approval;commendation)noun for being what they are, and no other dog is as wonderful as this one. I would inundate(flood;overwhelm)verb this dog with affection if I could. You see i have made a dichotomy(division into two parts)noun of dog studies, one part is the study of their prowess and the other their gentlness. i have made many a laud(song;praise)verb to these creatures and they have returned the favor. But dont listen to me Im crazy. You see madness as you know is like gravity, all you need is a little push.
I vowed to myself that I would never forget her. I would never forget the day my younger sister disappeared from our family forever. It happened four Septembers ago, the same month I was supposed to be starting eleventh grade. She was so young, too young. Audrey was only in the sixth grade. Our father worked for the government, which meant we were constantly moving from city to city. I was sixteen and only wanted to settle down in one place to have a normal life. Once I made friends and got comfortable with a town, we would pack up and hit the road again. My mother wasn’t exactly one to stand up for what she believed in either. She was always waiting for approbation (approval, n.) from my father. I personally thought it was kind of sad and often found myself feeling sorry for her. My father was anything but a maverick (rebel, n.). He was the kind of person that followed every rule. He ran a strict household, but he was lovable as well. Although he wasn’t the best father, I knew that he always tried to appease my sister and I. At this point we were living in a small town in Virginia. Fairfax was a cozy little place. We had a nice house with a garden in the front. It was a pale blue shade that had white shutters on the front windows. The neighbors were nice, quiet most of the time. Fairfax was mundane (everyday or common, adj.), but we considered it home. We had only been there for three months, when my father, Bill, sat us all down at the dinner table. I knew what was coming next. I crossed my arms on the table and laid my head in them. But to my surprise, he had pleasant news for us. We were finally going to be able to stay in Fairfax. I was so excited. My sister and I exchanged cheerful glances, until my father spoke once again. Before we could permanently settle in Fairfax, he was assigned to one more place, Detroit, Michigan. We would only stay there for two weeks until returning to Virginia. It wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, but I was still pleased. I would finally have a normal life I thought to myself. I ran up the stairs to my room and threw the door open. I pulled out a suitcase from underneath my bed and began packing. This time I was in a wonderful mood. For once I would be happy and lead a normal life, or so I thought.
When we arrived in Detroit, we immediately went to our hotel. It wasn’t at all what I expected. The second we entered the cramped room, a pungent (sharp taste or smell, adj.) smell inundated (to overwhelm, flood, submerge, v.) my family and I. There were two queen sized beds and a night stand with a battered lamp in between them. A small table with a T.V. and corded phone were across from the tiny bathroom. This was home for the next two weeks. Aubrey ran past me and jumped onto one of the beds. She was so energetic and optimistic. At times I wished I had her mentality. “Come on Sophia there’s a pool!” she shouted. She jumped off the bed, grabbed her swim suit, and ran into the bathroom. The door shut with a slam. “Go on and take her to the pool,” Bill said to me. I rolled my eyes and complied. When we were done changing, my sister sprinted down the hallway. I followed her slowly, staring at the blank walls. Something wasn’t right I remember thinking to myself. This whole hotel had an eerie aura to it. I put those thoughts into the back of my head though and headed to the pool. I was just being paranoid and those ominous thoughts were extraneous (not relevant, adj.). I sat on a fold out chair that was next to the deep end of the pool. Suddenly I couldn’t find Aubrey. I began to panic and stood up immediately. “Aubrey! Aubrey!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. I felt a small pat on my back; I whipped around. “I’m right here Sophia. Don’t freak out,” she said to me with a broad smile. I gave her a harsh glare and yelled at her, “Don’t ever do that again to me! You scared me! We are going back to the room!” She whined and her smile quickly disappeared, “I hate you!” I had never heard her say those three word from her before. She grabbed her towel and ran up to our room. I stood there for a moment, amazed at her incredible anger. I had the right to be mad at her! She is the one who ran off without telling me. I didn’t think that it was feasible (possible, adj.) to have a worse sister. I went up to our room to find Audrey lying on the bed. She was pouting about not getting to swim. My parents gazed up at me when they heard the creaking sound of the door opening. My father motioned for me to come and talk to him. I knew that look on his face. He was definitely irritated with someone, and I thought I knew who. He and my mother told me that they had reached a consensus (an opinion reached by a group, n) about my punishment for upsetting my sister. I had to take her to the park the next day. It wasn’t fair, but I was in no mood to argue with them. The next day would yield an event that none of us expected.
Audrey and I reached the park around noon. The second we arrived she took off and headed for the swings. She practically lauded (to praise highly, v.) the swings. Ever since she was small it was her favorite thing to do. I knew that we weren’t allowed to split into a dichotomy (branching into two parts, n) and that we had to stay together. I sat down on a wooden bench across from the swings. She looked like she was having the time of her life. A chill ran up and down my spine. The air was cooler, so I crossed my arms and shivered. I looked up at my sister and smiled at her. I waved to her and motioned that I would be right back. She smiled and nodded at me with her large grin. I sat up and jogged towards the car to retrieve my sweater. I unlocked the car and grabbed it from the back seat. Suddenly I heard a piercing scream. I turned my head and stared at the swings, where Aubrey was no longer. Without even shutting the car door I ran with all my might towards the park. Other parents were running towards their children to see if they were all right. I stopped and looked side to side vigorously searching for Audrey. “Audrey! Audrey, come on this isn’t funny! Audrey!” I ran to the swings and looked for her. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a green hair ribbon. It was the one that she was wearing today. I picked it up and started crying. I fell to my knees and fondled the ribbon. I managed to stagger to an upright position and began panting. I went to every child checking to see if it was her. I ran around that wretched park five times searching for that familiar face. By the time I went back to the swings, the police were there. I saw my parents talking to them, my mother beginning to cry. Later that day I went down to the police station with my parents to talk with the sergeant. That day was the worst day of my life. We stayed in Detroit for the next two months. We never gave up hope. But sixth months later the authorities stopped looking for her. That’s when my parent’s hearts officially broke. After that we moved back to Fairfax. The house wasn’t the same without her. She filled our home with joy and energy, but now it was filled with sorrow and mourning. My mother kept her room the same in hope that she would one day return. I went off to college the fall that I turned 18. I didn’t visit often; it just reminded me of her. Through the years my parents moved on. I don’t think they ever accepted that she was gone. They continued with their life as if nothing had ever happened. Though others may have forgotten her I promised myself one thing. I vowed to myself that I would never forget her. I would never forget my little sister Audrey.
I am blind.
I am blind in the sense that I cannot see what you see, but not so blind that I am naïve. While the wallpaper in my mind is white and unstained, these mundane (adj; everyday) walls are inundated (v; overwhelm) with visions of brilliant colors. The consensus (n; opinion reached by group as whole) is often that art is a gift for the eyes, but I disagree. It is not an eye for colors on a palette but the imagination that makes their birth feasible (adj; possible). It is the imagination that I use as my paintbrush, the imagination that characterizes all my visions. My nose depicts the landscape, my ears the emotion, and my hands the glue which supports my artistic triumphs.
I am a modern Monet, a reincarnated Renoir. I take the world in which you live, and paint it how I see it. To you, it is unrecognizable as a pond but to me, it is the very essence of the water, the lily pads, and the creatures living within the crystalline shores. Of course, I have never seen your world and must make mine mirror how I view yours, just as a baker making bread from scratch. And so, in the Chateau d’If of my mind, I learn from the preacher, his lauds (normally v; to praise highly) branching the infinite space between his world and mine. There will be no Dantes-esque escape for me, however, as I cannot find the door which shall pour in the light.
And so I must imagine my own world, based on my other senses. My ocean, unlike yours, is filled with the pungent (adj; sharp smell) odor of salt as it wrestles with its brothers, a fight for supremacy. I feel the warm wounds of my fingers, whilst you see the brilliant blue and the pelican searching for survival. I hear the pleasure in the little girls’ voices while you see the joy on their faces and the dancing figures of their dark shadows.
As I walk along your streets, I am a maverick (n; nonconformist), my darkness creating a black hole in your vortex of light. You and I live in the same world and yet the dichotomy (n; branching into two parts) of our gifts makes you and I black and white; your hurricane of colors clashing with my pure deficiencies.
But if I could see, would I crawl out of my cave and enter your forest of trees? The question is extraneous (adj; not relevant) for the answer is unknown. Would I leave my self-created world, so full of beauty and purity to enter yours, resplendent in hate and ugliness? Would my ideas of utopia meet with your reality with cries of approbation (n; approval)? Or perhaps it is best to remain locked up in my prison, looking longingly through the small window at the world which I want but can never have.
The (pungent) odor filled the air causing Marley the (maverick) to run with the tennis ball. The (mundane) task of walking was out of the question due to the (extraneous) activities taking place across the street. The family was celebrating their yearly family reunion and the children saw Marley with his tennis ball. Ignoring him was not (feasible) for the children. The (laud) filled the air as the children giggled with delight. The (inundate) enthusiasm encouraged Marley to run faster. The (approbation) of his master was not well recieved. The more he yelled the faster Marley ran. This (dichotomy) confused the poor puppy. When the family saw the looks of the owner, it encouraged them to come to (consensus) and invite Marley and his master to the barbeque. After an eventful evening full of fun and food Marley was tired and carried home by his master.
“…see Chameleon, lying there in the sun. All things to everyone, run run away…” “What are you singing?” “Huh, oh nothing, so what’s up?” “Nothing much, I was just thinking about this mundane (adj) schedule that we have.” “Oh yeah, it is the same thing every day. It’s so boring.” “I know right, hey, I was going to go down to Burger Box and get something to eat, you want to come?” “Not today, I have to get home a help my parents move some of their old crap up to the attic.” “Oh ok, catch ya later.” “See ya Steve, maybe next time.” “Yeah, maybe, by Ross.” “Buh buh buh dee da… man I need to get this song out of my head. It giving me a headache.” As Ross walked down the five blocks to his house in Manchester, he noticed that a bum had been walking towards him, with a sad look in his eye. The bum was tall with brown, greasy hair, and old, pungent (adj) cloths that look like they were from the dinosaur age. “Excuse me sir, could you spare a couple of bucks, I haven’t eaten in five days.” “Um sorry sir I don’t have any money.” “Oh thank any way, goodbye.” Seeing as how desperate the bum was Ross quickly made a decision that he knew he’d regret later. “Hey come with me, I have some money at home.” “Oh god bless ya sir, this means a lot to me.” “Ya no problem, just stay outside until I give you the money ok. I don’t want my parents to go into a hissy fit if they see you.” “Not a problem, I ‘ll be super secretive.” A goofy smile spread across the bum’s face as he walked with Ross to his house. You didn’t need to walk but 10 feet to hear that Ross’s parents were arguing over something…again.
“What do you mean this isn’t a dichotomy (v) that’s exactly what it is! We are separating into two different, contradictory, parts. You want to go and see that dumb bimbo again, yeah I know what you do when you go out late at night. You say you’re just helping a patient, but I know the truth! You are a sleazy little…oh I want to divorce you so bad, and I would if not for our son!” “Shut up Margret, you don’t know what I do when I go out late. I just want some fresh air, but you always want me by your side. I can’t be around you all the time!” SLAM! “Oh crap, Ross did you hear all that?” “Huh, no, hear what?” “Oh never mind? So how was school today?” “Fine I’ll be in my room.” Ross hurried to his room and shut the door, tears threatening to burst from his eyes. He opened the window and the bum appeared in the windowsill. As soon as he did Ross could smell the sharp smell of sewage and other things that he couldn’t quite place. “Wow, I haven’t heard an argument like that in like, two weeks.” “Shut up, here, here’s 10 dollars, now go away!” “Sure thing, thanks again buddy.” As the bum walked away Ross could hear him murmuring, “alright now I can get some more of that good stuff that dealer on 1st street is selling.” Knock, knock, knock.. “Ross is there someone else in your room?” “No mom just talking to myself.” “Ok honey, dinners in 5.” “Kk, I’ll be right there. ”
Thinking to himself, Ross wondered what it would be like to have a different family. “I need to get out of here. I’ll go to Rome. I think that I almost have enough. How much do I need?” Ross went to where a plywood board was partially sticking up. “Alright so I have about 2,000 dollars saved up. That’s enough for a first class trip to Rome, but I need 200 more dollars to rent an apartment. I can get a job and live on my own.” “Ross get your butt down here and eat your meal.” “I said I was coming dad, geez.” “You need to stop being a maverick (adj) and conform to society, that way we can get you out of the house as soon as possible.” “Wow love you too dad. What’s for dinner?” “Well my little rebel, I made some beef stew.” “Thanks mom, how were your days?” “Don’t want to talk about it.” “Ok, mom how was your day?” “My day was fine dear.” There was a sense of annoyance in Ross’s moms voice. Ross didn’t care though, he knew that his mom was being nice to him so that she didn’t get another misconduct, and get thrown in jail. ” I’m done, I’m going to read the paper.” “K bye.” “I got a new job today.” “Good for you mom, what is it?” “I’m the new manager at the Steak-N-Ale.” “Cool I got an A in calculus today.” “Oh that’s nice, a little extraneous (adj), but nice.” “Sorry for my non relevance, just thought that you’d be happy.” “Oh well think harder next time. I’m tired, I’m going to bed.” “AKA, sneak out, go to a bar and spend all of dad’s and your hard earned money.” “What honey?” “Nothing good night.”
The next day was a Friday and the last day of school until the summer. Ross got up and dressed for school. As went outside and closed the door to his house, his friend Steven was there waiting for him. “Hey Stevo, what’s up?” “Nothing much, hey heard that you got Suma com lade at school, congrats.” “Thanks, I guess. Hey I need your consensus (adj) on something.” “What?” “I was thinking of going to Rome right after high school.” “Well in my opinion I think that that would be a good move. That way you could take some time off and relax yourself for when you go to college.” “I was thinking of staying there for the rest of my life.” “WHAT! You can’t do that, you have to stay here and go to college like the rest of us. It just wouldn’t be collage without you.” “I’m sorry, but I need to get out of this country, hey why don’t you come with me?” “We could get the money from our college funds, And go to college in Rome.” “Hmm, you know that actually sounds like a good idea.” “I mean I have like over 300,000 dollars in mine, that’s enough to go to a really nice college in Rome. How much do you have?” “Um, 40,000 dollars in mine.” “Oh my god. How do you have so little.” “My dad and mom blew it all on booze, and drugs.” “Well we could put yours and mine together and then split it in half, plus with the international scholarships you’ve gotten you should be able to get in.” “Thanks Steven, you are like my best friend.” “So when are you thinking of going?” “Right after summer, I’m going to get a job and work my tail off to get some extra cash, then I’m going to hop on the first flight to Rome.” “Sounds like a plan, I think that I might do that also.” “Kk, see ya after the awards ceremony.” “Alright see you later.”
Ross left for the auditorium, while Steven went to his first class. “Ok, I have the approbation (v) of Steven, his approval means a lot to me. This could be feasible (adj)” “What could be possible?” “Wow, you scared the crap out of me. Where’d you come from, Mandy?” “The auditorium, I got Magna com lade.” “Congrats, so do you know what you’re going to do after high school?” “Yeah I’m going to go overseas for a year and study in Rome for the summer. Then I’m coming back to America and going to Stanford.” “Oh that’s cool, well I got to go to the auditorium, see ya.” “By Ross.” “What a coincidence, oh well time to accept my award.” Ross walked into the auditorium to see headmaster Mond standing in the middle of the stage. “Hello Ross, glad you could come.” “Thanks Mr. Mond. So I hear that you’re going to award the Suma com lade today. Who’s it going to be?” “Please as if you didn’t know.” Mr. Mond said with a wink. Ross couldn’t help but blush.”But on a serious note, It is with my honor that I give you the title of Suma com lade. This title will help you get into the college and get the job that you want. The staff and I are very proud of you Ross.” “Thank you sir, I’m glad to receive this reward.” “Good now off to class with you” “Yes sir.” Ross walked out of the class room with a happy feeling the inundated (v) his entire body. The overwhelming feeling stayed with him for the rest of the day.
When he got home he told his parents the news. “I got Suma com lade, can you believe it, me, Ross Spulch, got Suma com lade.” “Good for you”, his father said in a lethargic tone. “Shouldn’t I be getting lots of laudity (v) from you to. This title basically guarantees me a full ride into any college I want.” “Whatever makes you happy.” “You guys suck!” For the first time Ross really felt how unloved by his parents he really was, the High praise that he didn’t get was the final nail in the coffin. Ross packed his bags and left the house for Stevens. Ross got to the house and banged on Stevens front door. “Ross what’s up?” “Steven I’m leaving right now for Rome you coming?” “Yeah about Rome, um I’m not going to go with you. I got accepted into Harvard, so I’m going to stay here.” “But, I thought that you wanted to go with me?” “Listen Ross, your plan isn’t going to happen, just give it up.” right after Steven said those last words, Ross punched him in the mouth, with a satisfying crunch and ran the rest of the way to the airport.
Once there Ross hoped on the first flight to Rome and settled in to his first class seat. After a while he fell asleep and woke up to an annoying noise that seemed to come from the seat behind him. As he was about to tell the person behind him to shut up, he noticed that it was Mandy. “Hey Mandy, long time no see.” “Ross? What are you doing here?” “?Um going to Rome, what are you doing here?” “The same. Are you going to study in Rome too?” “Um, no I’m going to live there.” “Ha-ha, that was a good one, but seriously, what are you going to do there?” “I am being serious. I’m going to live in Rome.” “What?! You’ve got to be kidding me. How are you going to live in Rome. I got a couple of international scholarships, so I’m going to college in Rome. then after college, I’m going to live there, and become a doctor there.” “Are you sure, I mean why?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Fine, whatever, hey maybe we can stay at the same motel?” “Maybe, I would enjoy having a friend with me.” “Same here, well I’m going to get some sleep. See you in the morning.” “Kk night.” As Mandy drifted off into a deep sleep, Ross couldn’t help but notice how cute Mandy was. “Yeah, this could work out great.”
The nightmare just keeps coming. Every night I run down that hallway, yet never reach the end. There is a light behind me, and all I want to do is turn and run in to it. Yet this light terrifies me and all I can do is keep running. Then I begin to scream. I don’t understand why I scream or what there is to be afraid of, but every night when the dream hits climax I am overcome with an overwhelming fear and start to scream. It’s my screams that wake me up, and take me out of that never-ending run.
The fear doesn’t leave me when I wake from my own screams. Lately any dream that I have more than once comes true. Yesterday one of the old town buildings burned down and I had been dreaming about that for weeks. The day before and old man from our town won the lottery and I had dreamed about him and his ugly brown sweater for even longer. The dreams were starting to scare me, even the good ones. At least in the past I’ve understood my dreams, with this one I have no idea what it means or what in the world the strange terrifying light could be.
THREE MONTHS LATER
The dream has been coming for months now, and I had this strange feeling that today would not be mundane (adj – everyday, average), but the day where everything would start, and all would fall into place, or maybe out of place.
I woke up to the sound of the news blaring on my living room TV. That meant only one thing that her twin brother Jordan was here and without my approbation (noun, approval). Jordan and I are like the same person, just different genders. Both of us tall, with pitch black hair and bright blue eyes, the same taste in music, food and clothes, and both of us have the same view on the world. Both of us are mavericks (adj – rebel, nonconformist) and enjoy being different.
I slowly made my way out of bed, rubbing my eyes as I went. Once I got to the kitchen I gave him the worst look I could muster and grabbed a cup of coffee. As I took a sip, I let the pungent (adj-sharp smell or taste) smell overwhelm my senses.
“Good morning o twin of mine.” Jordan said as I leaned against the counter.
“I hate you right now, and your overly chipper morning person personality.”
“Aww come on sis, I woke you for a good reason.”
“And what would that be?”
“That your darling brother has come to visit you on this fine day.”
I scoffed at him, but before I could say much more, what I saw on the news shocked me to silence. Jordan noticing my lack of reply and my stare at the TV. turned to look also.
The once average human reporter was now something totally different. The alien had clear skin and seemed to radiate light. I knew just by looking at it that this was the key to my dream. This being made of light was what I was running from, down that endless hallway. After coming to this realization, I started to listen.
“Hello earth viewers. Welcome to the destruction of your race.” The voice was deceptively beautiful as it spoke of our destruction. After those ten words were spoken, all power died and the city became a black abyss. I was terrified. I called out for my brother in the darkness.
“JORDAN? Are you there?”
“I’m still her Alice, its going to be ok.”
“No Jordan. It isn’t.”
“And why is that? This is probably just some prank and a coincidence.”
“No it isn’t. I had a dream about this Jordan it’s completely real, and we have to get out.”
“So just because you dreamed it its real?
“Please Jordan! You have to trust me on this. I explain later, right now that information is extraneous (adj- not relevant). Just please don’t leave me!” I was practically begging, but I couldn’t imagine loosing him, or not knowing whether he was alive of dead. He just looked at me, but when he saw the pure unmasked fear in my eyes he realized this was happening and it was totally and completely real.
“Ok, ok I believe you, but what do we do now?”
I thought and thought. Trying to figure out where we could go that light couldn’t reach, for the enemy was light, and for once our friend was in darkness. Then it hit me. It was a consensus (noun, – an opinion reached by a group as a whole) that I hoped the whole world reached.
“Underground.” I whispered.
“What was that?”
“We need to get underground. Where the light can’t reach.” It was definitely as feasible (adj – possible) way of escape and I will laud (verb- to praise highly) God if it works and we get out alive.
“There’s a basement in this apartment building, we could go there.”
“That will work for now. Come on. We have to run.”
I was so afraid as Jordan and I ran from my flat to the basement of the building. I should see a light through the window, making its way towards the building.
“Faster!” I screamed, but Jordan seemed mesmerized by the light in the window. I tired to pull him back with me, but his feat seemed nailed to the floor.
“Come on Jordan! We have to run or we’re gunna die!” Again I was left without an answer. I knew that for once in our life we had reached a dichotomy (noun- branching into two parts – especially contradictory ones) Grief and fear crashed over me when I realized that if I wanted to survive then I would have to leave him. I hugged him one last time and then kept running, tears blurring my vision as I ran.
I could feel my self slowing, and I was still nowhere near the basement. I had ten floors to go. I had to get out. I felt so trapped. The light was gaining. I could feel it, pressing against my back as I tried to get away.
Just like in the dream, I was terrified, yet compelled to turn and look into the light behind me. I knew I couldn’t turn around, or else I would end up just like Jordan. I had to live on. I had to survive for him. I kept running, but I knew that I was getting slower. I tried to push myself faster but my legs would not obey. I knew I was going to die. I tried to fight that knowledge, but it inundated (verb – overwhelm) me, and I slowed to a stop, unable to continue onwards. Then I felt the light. It consumed me. For a second all I felt was a burning heat, but I did not die. Instead, I was invaded. I was taken over. Light seeping into and out of every part of my body. I was no longer human, but the enemy. No longer the victim, but the destroyer.
Image 3
Through extensive research and studies of scientist constantly (inundating v.) graphs and charts with data the conclusion has been met that the most popular vacation that Americans take is to the beach. This (consensus n.) reached by the very large group of scientists also discovered more important information on this topic. The most unfavorable location for vacations was a swamp due to the (pungent adj.) odors emanating from the murky waters. Realistically, a vacation to the swamp would not be very (feasible adj.) for the average American because of the high travel costs of hiring helicopter pilots. Beaches were (lauded v.) by the masses simply because of the fact that it was an easy release from the (mundane adj.) lives that we all live, consumed by our jobs. The harsh sun and temperatures are (extraneous adj.) to the enjoyment of the beach and don’t affect it. For those (mavericks n.) who are truly concerned with the heat and don’t enjoy it like the rest of us, the experience on the beach is a (dichotomy n.). The cool waters are a nice attraction if sunbathing doesn’t meet your (approbation n.).
“Hello Mr. Smith”
“Hello, John. How was the night?”
“Well, we had a great time here in your hotel and thank you again for your appropation (approval, n) to let us investigate your beautiful hotel. It was a great night and we even found some evidence you may laud (to praise highly, v).”
“Oh really. Well let’s see it!”
“Of course”
“Ok, our first piece comes from room 101. It waa Justin and me and we had an EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) session set up. We started asking questions and we captured a voice.”
“Really?”
“Yes, how about we’ll let you hear it.”
-listening-
“Wow, that sounds like “Get Out”
“Yes that was our consensus (an opinion reached by a group as a whole, n)”
“Great piece of evidence!”
“Yes, but that wasn’t all. Our next piece is a video recording, which isn’t mundane (everyday, adj) and it makes our first piece seem almost extraneous (not relevant, adj).”
“Great. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Alright, we captured this when we were in the big hallway after the lobby. You said that some guests have reported seing a female apparition and we might have captured it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I’ll tell how it all happened. First we started smelling the pungent (sharp taste or smell, n) smell of parfume. Suddenly, a shape of a person appeared and darted towards us. Right before it impacted me, it split into two halfs and then wanished. We call this a dichotomy (branching into two parts, n).”
“All I can say is WOW. And you captured all this on camera?”
“Yes sir”
-watching-
“Oh my god. That really inundated (overwhelm, v) me and probably you too.”
“Yes, definetly. Well that was it. Do you have any questions for us?”
“Do you think that it’s feasible (possible, adj) that this ghost is harmful to my guests?”
“Honestly, I think it’s possible. The way the apparition darted towards me was frightening. But the reason for this could be that we challenged the ghost to show itself, which might have angered it. I think as long as you are friendly towards it, it will stay friendly too.”
“Thank you. Although some people may call you mavericks (rebel, n) for being ghost hunters, I really appreciate your work and I’m glad that I now know what’s going on here.”
“No problem”
Running from your fears was never a good idea. But this time, she ran so she could then face her fear in a new way. If she waited around the corner for him, it may be feasible (possible, adj) for her to catch him by surprise. The incision on Efrosini’s palm stung terribly, as her own blood fought its way through the parchment thin cut. Her breathing slowed down as she slipped past the corner and halted. She had left Cumae far behind. He takes training far too seriously, Efrosini thought bitterly as she wiped the blood from her hand onto her dove gray sundress. Cumae’s fast paced footstep’s echoed down the hallway. Efrosini clutched her weapon tightly, listening intensely to her follower’s feet. Two more steps and she’ll have him, the only way he could escape is if he turned around and ran back down the stairs, but for that the hallway was too long. Efrosini mentally prepared for her attack; Cumae took one more step.
Efrosini lonched out from her hiding place, her blonde hair slightly obscurring her sight. But Cumae was quicker, he had expected something like that and darted out the window. The sound of glass breaking, as Cumae leaped onto the concrete floor, sounded like a vigurously shook windchime. Cumae’s training had taught him how to jump out of a two-story window onto the floor without problem. Efrosini swore under her breath, as she stared down into Cumae’s grinning face.
“Efrosini, get Cumae. The two of you can come back now”, said the voice out of the small headphone in Efrosini’s ear. She had been so preoccupied with mentally hurling swear words at Cumae, that the electronic voice had startled her, and she jumped. Cumae had noticed and laughed from the concrete bellow. Efrosini couldn’t come up with a better way to expose her anger other than sticking out her tongue at him.
“That wasn’t a bad practice, now was it”, smirked Cumae as he andEfrosini walked down to the parking lot of the uninhabitant hotel, the Society used to train in. Efrosini growled quietly, as she stepped into the driver’s seat of the orange sports car. Cumae took up the passenger seat and Efrosini sped back to headquarters. Her hand still stung from the cut. “ You know, out of all the Mavericks (rebel, n), you’re deffinetly my favorite.” Cumae smiled as he spoke. Efrosini thought about the other Mavericks, they were all like her and Cumae. All of them orphans that now work for Hector, the leader of the Mavericks. The Mavericks are unofficial spies for the government that were still in training. She and Cumae have been with them for about three years now.
“ I hope your hand doesn’t hurt too bad”, Cumae added, as he watched Efrosini steer one-handed.
“ You are so mind is so mundane (worldly as opposed to spiritual, everyday, adj). No Cumae, my hand doesn’t hurt at all, I only have a cut from ring-finger to thumb. Nothing a bandaid couldn’t fix!” Efrosini added sarcastically. Cumae gave another hearty laugh.
“You are really funny. You’d probably be in a better mood if you wouldn’t constantly be shut up in your room reading.”
“ I may be in a better mood if you would stop inundating (overwhelm,flood,submerge, v) parts of my body in pain!” Efrosini spat. Unfortunetly, Cumae just thought her anger hysterical. Cumae got out a small bottle and opened it. The pungent (sharp taste or smell, adj) odor of disinfectant stung Efrosini’s nostrils. Cumae held his hand out to get a hold of her’s. Unwillingly, Efrosini handed him her palm and he started cleaning her wound. It seemed as though both came to a silent consensus (an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole, n), Cumae could repair Efrosini’s hand as an apology for insuring. Even appearancly-wise, Cumae and Efrosini were a complete dichotomy (branching into two parts – especially contradictory ones, n); Efrosini’s light hair and fair skin was a sharp contrast next to Cumae’s copper skin and dark hair. Cumae had bandaged her hand up in a light blue wrap. He waited to receive Efrosini’s approbation (approval, n). She nodded as she placed her newly wrapped hand onto the steering wheel.
“ You’d better laud ( to praise highly, v) me infront of Hector. I patched up your hand and I got a bandage in your favorite color.” Cumae said jokingly. Efrosini sighed.
“ Don’t you think that mentioning that you bandaged my hand in blue will be a bit extraneous (not relevant, adj), when we’re supposed to be reporting about how amazing a training ground the hotel was?”
“The hotel has been inundated(overwhelmed, flooded, submerged)(verb) by a proliferation of zombies: flashed across the television screen. I remember that day so clearly. The people inside were the first to be infected by the deadly virus Brandetto. Since that cold november morning in Boston, the virus has spread throughout the nation. My family fled to Germany where we have minimal family. I keep asking myself, is this situation feasible? A dichotomy(branching in two parts, especially in contradictory ones)(noun) has arisen in what is left of civil society. The majority feel that it is a strictly spiritual happening and fall back to their religions to find an answer, while others choose to have a much more mundane(worldly as opposed to spiritual)(adj.) look on the circumstances. The elders in my family, who all speak German and only German, have yet to reach a consensus(an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole)(noun) on which theory we support as a family. It’s a scary feeling to know at any time a killer zombie could infect you and infect your entire family. Their getting smarter according to the new stations, but they’ve yet to learn to cover up their pungent(sharp taste or smell)(adj.) odor. The television also believes that a group of military scientists on an American military base received approbation(approval)(noun) to run chemical tests on soldiers to give them extraordinary abilities to sharpen their skills in combat. Apparently a group of mavericks(rebel, nonconformist)(noun) stole the chemical solution and had a negative reaction to the substance making them flesh eating zombies able to infect anyone who’s bloodstream came into direct contact with their oral orifice. From my observation of several videos of the infected, they seem to laud(to praise highly)(verb) large open areas with heavy lighting. This data could be extraneous(not relavent)(adj.) to containing the infection or not. I’ll write back soon, Donavan. Berlin, Germany, January, 19th, 2074.”
Billy gasped with wonder as he read the journal he and his younger brother had found in the woods that day. ” Is that the last entry?” asked Berkley. “Yes.” Billy replied.
There once was a schnauzer from Memphis,
About whom there was no consensus (an opinion, n) .
Some lauded (to praise highly, v) with full approbation (approval, n) ,
While others said “Mundane (everyday, adj) creation!”
The pooch was real smart, but he smelled like a skunk.
His pungent (sharp taste or smell, adj) aroma inundated (overwhelm, v) and stunk.
The judges, they had a dichotomous (branching into two parts, adj) mess,
Unsure if the smell was extraneous (not relevant, adj).
No feasible (possible,adj) end for the debate could be found,
So the maverick (rebel, nonconformist, n) went home with no crown.
It was almost morning, the sun was rising and the birds began chirping. Started off as a normal day about to go to school, play with friends. When a loud noise came from my moms room. I was inundated, (overwhelmed, v.) it sounded like the ceiling had fallen in or someone had broken into the window. Then I thought that seemed to extraneous (not relevant, adj.) for someone to climb a tree to the second floor and break into the window. Well I ran down the hallway to see what was the matter and what do I see, I see a corpsed body laying on the floor. The pungent (sharp taste or smell, adj.) smell filled the room. I looked around for several minutes and couldn’t find my mother, was it feasible (possible, adj.) that the body somehow magically made my mother disappear? As logical as that sounds, maybe its actually true. This mundane (worldly as opposed to spiritual, everyday, adj.) society could have joined together and formed against our family. But who would want a dichotomy (branching into two parts-especially contradictory ones, n.) community that only worked against eachtother and not with? The only person who would make the approbation (approval,n.) of this motion would be Mr. David O’Neal. He is the only one who could make this population reach a consensus (an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole, n.) and go through with everything that was voted upon. All the women love to laud (to praise highly, v.) him, so he wins them over easily.
He is the one true maverick (rebel, nonconformist, n.) of this society for good and for bad. Your future lies in his hands.
Running no where,
Or maybe somewhere.
We can only judge where you will go,
But you can only guess as well.
These mundane (adj, everyday) paths
We run everyday can change
In a second.
Situations do not make us who we are;
we make ourselves in every situation.
And those are the words I live by. My grandfather wrote those words, and I laud (vb, praise highly) him every time I think about this thoughtful poem. Through every stage of my life, those have gotten me through every struggle…
As a child, my sister and I would play out in the sand along the beach. Our mother was very paranoid, and you could imagine what a nightmare she thought taking us to the ocean shore was. Mother would tell us about a game that she loved playing with her little brother. They would try to stay as close to the water as possible without actually touching the water. So, she always want us to play this game. My sister and I, being young, made a consensus (n. an opinion reached by a group as a whole) that we should definitely do that, and it would be fun! Sure, it was fun when we were 7 and 8, and we put up with it around age 10, but then we just got bored. We had been in pools, but never the actual ocean, which was a shame really. So, we decided to run out and swim in that ocean. Of course, not with Mother’s approbation. (n. approval) Wading speedily into the cool, almost murky water, we both smiled at each other. Without warning from the newly found ocean, the water inundated( verb, and submerged) us underwater. The salty and dirty sea caved in over us, and the pungent (adj, sharp taste) waters filled my nostrils and mouth. My eyes had closed before I was hit by the water, and it seemed there was no feasible (adj, possible) way of getting back up. I’m sure there was a dichotomy (n, branching into two parts) between our beings, and I was indeed panicked. Reaching like a little child for a parent to hold me, my childish self stretched my arm, longing for something, air, a hand… anything. I struggled through the waters, searching for my sister’s familiar hand, but I had no luck. I have no idea how deep I was, how long it was, or who was there, but they dragged my sister and me onto the shore. The bright blue sky with it’s shining sun told my soul I was okay once again. I looked to my right, and there was my sister, breathing like she had when she was a baby. After I gathered that everyone was okay, I remembered Mother. She would appear and surely scold us ’till she died. But, all of that scolding and punishing was extraneous (adj, not relevant) to all that she said. She was so comforting, it was shocking. So, after we recovered from our trauma, Mother said she would teach us how to go into the ocean, and ‘be the ocean’ not get eaten by the ocean (or at least that’s how she put it.)
When we first started our run towards that ocean, we had the intent of freedom and fun, and definitely were not greeted with that. We realized that as we got older. My mother changed, too. She didn’t consider anything we did to be the work of a maverick; (n, rebel) she accepted our… different way of exploring life not always by her demands. And maybe Grandpa was just smiling away at us up there, repeating his poem while watching us struggle, and then rejoicing with us when we returned….Or maybe…he was…
I still remember the day. The dark hall and creaping shadows obscuring my final view of her, her fleeing form against the morning light. The sun had just begun to inundate (to flood, v.) the hallway with sunlight and it siloueted her streaming hair and pumping arms. We had both been mavericks (independent person, n.) in the same field, thinkers and loners. We thought we had reached a concensus (agreement, n.) not to give opinions on each others work. We treated each other with approbation (approval, n.) and laud (praise, n.). The air was pungent (strongly smelling, adj.) with the smell of sweat and anger from the night before. When morning came she just took off. She took off from that simple room, free from all extraneous (excesive, adj.) furnishing. Dirty and exhausted she ran past the final two doors of the dichotomy (division in two, n.) of our life, towards the light. She never looked so beautiful.
Is it feasible (adj, possible) to have an easier life than a dog? Everyday getting lauded (verb, praised highly), for no extraneous (adj, not relevant) reasons. It is impossible to get as much inundating (adj, overwhelming) attention as a dog does. The answer is no. It is not possible to have an easier life than a dog. But you can come pretty close to having such a life, but how? The answer is simple. Become a dog, yes it sounds very crazy, but it can be done. Now’s your chance to live a relaxed, carefree life that will bring joy for eternity. All you have to do is call this number, 012-345-6789 for a simple mundane (adj, everyday) life. My procedure is simple; take 4 pills a day to feel the same way a dog would, and it last’s 18 hours! Great I know and now only $19.99 a month (for 3 months). This consensus (noun, an opinion reached by a whole) about becoming a dog was taken seriously by the public, until Dr. Terrier brought it to lab and perfected this theory. Now taken seriously by hundreds of customers! The dichotomy (adj, separating parts) groups of believers and non-believers are now all convinced that this treatment works. Do you want that pungent (adj, sharp taste) of your food, and being able to be a maverick (noun, rebel) at will? Well now’s your chance because the Government has given the approbation (noun, approval) of this treatment. Call now and get an extra 12 pills for free!
It seems that the dog is having a great time with his ball. I believe he approbates of it very fondly. It seems that the consensus among dogs is that balls are fun. I believe that a dog seeing another dog with a ball while he has no ball could make him want a dichotomy. I believe that a ball is by no means extraneous to any dog. I do not believe, however, that it is necessarily easy to pull a ball away from a dog seeing that they loves balls ever so much. The ball seems to, at some point, always become inundate with slobber from the dog playing with it too much. I think that if dogs could talk, they would sing many lauds about balls. If dogs could give balls a personality they would make them mavericks, leaders in the intellectual world. We on the other hand would probably give a ball a mundane personality, since we don’t think very high of such a toy. I’m quite sure that if we decided we were going to chew on a ball that we would be met with a quite pungent taste.
***
Mr. Long: I’m hopeful that in the future you’ll put more attention into these entries. This seems to fall short of what was expected in terms of the directions. Good luck on future submissions (esp. since these are graded in addition to the weekly blog grades). You’re stronger than this based on previous writing I’ve seen.
Image #2
My mother decided that today was the day she wanted to finally get a dog. She had never been to fond of them at all and never gave me the approbation (approval, v) of getting one. But after convincing her for years she finally agreed to get one, but she had to choose the dog. My family always reaches a consenus (an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole,v). But I felt as if she was dichotomiengng (branching into two parts, adj.) from our decision making. We went into the car and as we were going to the pet store as a family. As we left the house we talked about what kind of dog we wanted to get and my brother always makes a extraneous (not relevant) remark about the subject were talking about. She said she may feasibly (possibly, adj.) want a small puppy dog because she often gets inundate (overwhelmed, adj) over big dogs. As we entered the petstore we noticed many different breeds of dogs, my mom lauded (to praise highly, v) that they have a variety to choose from. I can sometimes be a maverick (rebel, adj) of small dogs because they dont play fetch with you or anything. The petstore had a weird kind of pungent (sharp taste or smell, adj) to it. As we looked around we finally found the dog that we wanted, It was a small dog but very cute and was said that it’s very active and loves to play. We bought to dog and took it home, but we first had to make sure it had all its vaccines and luckily it did. I played with the dog mundane (everyday, adj). It was very obedient dog and loved to play catch, my brother would throw a tennis ball as far out as he could and the dog would go get it.
***
Mr. Long: Go back and double-check all the parts of speech. Definitely want to make some corrections before you approach the quiz on Tuesday, my friend. Good luck.
Image Two:
‘I got it! I got it!’ thought Truffles the dog. “Come here Truffles! Atta girl!” By the look on his owner’s face, she knew she was lauded (verb, praised highly) for her accomplishment. Playing catch was a mundane (adj, everyday) ritual that usually ended in an approbation (noun, approval). Both Truffles and her owner reached a consensus (noun, opinion reached by a group) that Truffles was a very talented dog, which was now seen by the neighbors as feasible (adj, possible). All the other dogs in the neighborhood were mavericks (noun, rebels) and had a pungent (adj, sharp taste or smell) exterior. Truffles, on the other hand was inundated (verb, flooded) with gifts and love for the amazing dog she was. All of the other owners were jealous of my little Truffles because when it came to dogs in the neighborhood, it was as if it was a dichotomy (noun, branching into two parts). Truffles is such a great little dog, one who extraneously (adv, not relavantly) has no flaws.
It was a beautiful spring day and Molly decided to let her dog Skippy out and play with the ball he lauded (to praise highly, v.) since the day he got it. Since Skippy took it everywhere he went it caused his ball to produce a pungent (sharp smell, adj.). The family and Molly didnt have the approbation (approval, verb) of the ball but they knew how much Skippy loved it so there consensus (opinion reached as a group as a whole, noun) officially gave Skippy the permission to keep the ball. When Skippy played with the ball the became a maverick (rebel, noun) and was feasible of (possible, adj.) of destroying anything in his path. This inundated (overwhelmed, verb) the family and caused a dichotomy (to branch into two parts, verb) between them and the dog. They did want to get rid of him because everytime he got ahold of his ball he would become a monster, but Skippy had been apart of their family for so long they just couldnt give him up. There solution seemed extraneous (not relevant, adj.) at first because all the things he had damaged, but in the end they were satisfied with their decision. They knew Skippy had taught them mundane (wordly, adj.) memories in their lives they would never forget!
My tennis ball is practically my life, and nothing else could possibly be better. If you want to play with me, then that’s just fine, but only if you bring my tennis ball with you. I only give approbation(approval n.) to the people that bring my tennis ball, because if you don’t, then you obviously don’t care about me. Every single day is wonderful when I have my tennis ball around me. I play in the back yard with it all the time. The only bad part is that I get carried away with barking at the other dogs I hear, and when I do my parents take it away from me. It makes me extremely angry. I saw them coming to an agreement when they were huddled up in a circle, making a consensus(opinion reached n.) over nothing. One day I was with one of my parents, Billy is his name. I laud(praise highly v.) him the most out of all my owners because he always takes me places. We had gone to the park that day which I thought was not feasible(possible adj.) because I always bark at the people that pass by, but that day was special. We were playing fetch and I was just about to catch the tennis ball in my mouth when I smelt something quite pungent(sharp smell adj.) come to my attention. I had closely followed the smell across a field like a maverick(rebel n.) who knew the lands like the back of his hand. I slowly moved forward across the land. Everything else was extraneous(not relevant adj.) to the situation I was in now. I had to find out where that smell was coming from. I crept along until I ran into a fence that was a dichotomy(branching into two parts n.). I wasn’t sure which path to choose, so I guessed and took the left path. When I walked up the left path, I suddenly saw what I could smell so clearly. The land around it was so beautiful and mundane(earthly adj.), it was like a dream. I was completely shocked and inundated(overwhelm v.). It was a brand new tennis ball that caught my smell, how could I forget what it was?
Napawleon: Tail of an Uprising
A single sign hung on every doghouse.
“Meet in the megadog doghouse at Chester’s after chow time. No later than 6:00. There is a top secret meeting for all dogs of Paris Street, not optional.”
After chow time, all the dogs of Paris Street met at Chester’s house, 3928 Paris Road, for the meeting. The Leader of Paris street, Napawleon, stepped forward and on to the platform.
“Greetings dogs of Paris Street. I suppose you are all wondering why you are here.”
The dogs barked in unison.
“Well let me tell you,” Napawleon continued.
“Since the dawn of time us dogs have been surpressed and tourmented. We love our owners, we all have reached a consensus(n; opinion reached as a group) on that. No, I am speaking of a diffrent force. Since we dogs have moved to this planet there has been an on going feud, a struggle if you will with us dogs and what is known to us as ‘the neighbor kid.’ I for one am tired. I am tired of that ‘neighbor kid’ stealing my toys, especially my ball! Which has yet to be returned to me! I cannot play without it! I am tired of being pet too hard, tired of the kid trying to pick me up, I am tired of that kid throwing things and squirting me with water! No more will I take this tourment! No more will I lay back and allow the neighbor children to use me as a ragdoll! We all know the worst neighbor kid on Paris Street, London Collingsworth. That little girl is way worse than any other! That is why I am proposing an uprising. I don’t want a dichotomy (N; branching into opposing sides) on this. If we do this, I need the approbation (N; approval) of every dog on Paris Street. Who is with me?”
A buzz went off in the dog house.
“Could we pull it off?”
“Yes, what do you plan to do?”
“Stop!” Napawleon shouted. “Stop with your barking. I believe this goal is feasible (Adj; possible). I believe we could pull it off. If and only if I had the support and belief of all of you! It is extraneous (Adj; irrelevant) to whether we can ull it off, but when! Now let me ask you again. Whose with me?”
“Hooooooowlll!”
“That’s what I thought. Now we must begin immediatly. Some may call me a maverick(N; rebel) but I am a revolutionary!”
Weeks had passed and they had their plan worked out to a tee. It was the day of the attack on the neighbor childern. They had chosen this day because it was a gathering of the children at a central location without parents. The place was called a playground. Dogs were staked out all along the street corners, behind trash cans, and under piles of leaves. Napawleon sat at the helm, near the playground, ready to give the signal, when he saw something very precious to him.
“That dirty child has my stolen ball, now it’s personal.”
This was not a mudane(Adj; everyday) mission. It required percise planning and timing. Wait for it, wait for it.
“Hooooooooowlll!!”
The dogs came rushing towards the children from their hiding place. They indundated(V; submerged) the children in slober until the children could not take it anymore. There was growling and pushing, as the dogs slowly edged the children backwards towards the dumpsters. The pungent(Adj; sharp smell) smell told the dogs they were to the dumpsters. The dogs who had been waiting on top of the dumpsters hoisted the children by their collars and tossed them into the dumpsters. When all were in they checked the time, 7 seconds. At that time the garbage truck rolled in and dumped the children unknowingly into the garbage truck. As the truck rolled away the dogs cheered.
“Hurray!”
“I laud(V; praise highly) you my fellow comrades for I could have not done this without you.”
“Napawleon,” one of the dogs spoke. “We retreived this from London.”
The dog used his nose and rolled Napawleons ball over to him.
“My ball? Commrades thank you, I shall never forget how we have brought justice to the dogs of Paris Street.”
“Napawleon!?” someone shouted from a distance.
“My owners, They’re home!”
Napawleon grabbed his ball and sprinted to his owners, never to be bothered by the neighbor kids again.
I awake at the sound of metal slamming shut and mundanely (adj. dull) look towards where the noise came from. It was when I saw the silver tray of food that I was coldly reminded that I was in jail. I’ve lost all hope of freedom, I’ll never be able to get out of this place. If only I chose not to go with my friends that night. I mean, I didn’t mean to shoot that guy in the car, it was HIS fault that he tried to call the cops. Of course my friends bailed out on me when they saw the red and blue flashing sirens and I was arrested. Now I’ve been sentenced for life in prison. My parents occasionally visit, but I’ve started to notice that they stop by less often than they used to. It’s hard to go into that room with only you, your parents, and a phone to talk through. Every time I look at my parents’ faces I see a look of sorrow, emptiness in their eyes and it inundates (v. to overwhelm) my heart with sadness. I sit on my wire bed in my cell and think about all of the feasible (adj. possible) ways my life could’ve turned out. I start to choke on cold oatmeal and tears fall into my bowl. I toss it away, disgusted with who I’ve become and lie on my bed, eventually crying myself to a restless sleep. I’m awoken again, but this time by the guard. It was time for me to start working. The other inmates know how much of a weakling I am and so they make me do all of their chores. If I don’t listen then they’ll just threaten me with knives or guns. Although I don’t look on these tasks with approbation (n. approval) I’m still relieved that I wasn’t forced to do something else. Enduring the pungent (adj. biting) smells of the bathrooms is a lot better than risking my life outside. Despite sticking out as a maverick (n. unorthodox person) when I first arrived, my constant lauding (v. to praise) of the more “tougher” inmates have earned me a little of their respect and recognition. But one day, I was reminded of my place amongst them. I was asked to do all of the cleaning for everybody while the others just relaxed, but I refused, growing tired of how I was being treated. The inmates didn’t like my rebellious attitude and reached a consensus (n. general agreement) to punish me for my disobedience. I painfully crawled back into my cell, limping on my broken leg I earned for my efforts of protesting, and wearily collapsed onto my bed. “I can’t take much more of this” I thought to myself. Then one day a glimmer of hope fell upon me. After the guard made his daily rounds checking each of our extraneous (adj. separate) cells to make sure we weren’t doing anything suspicious, he sat in his chair, which was coincidentally next to my cell and started reading a magazine. After some hours past, the guard dozed off and after I made sure he was fully asleep I started looking around for a way to escape. That was when something shiny in the guard’s pocket caught my eye. It was the keys to my cell! I slowly reached out through the steel bars of my door and carefully grasped the keys in my hands, making sure no one else noticed. Then I opened my door as quietly as I could and crept out step by step. Suddenly a prisoner yelled “Hey! Someone’s running away!” The guard jerked awake and I bolted down the hallway, not looking back for one second. As I followed the hall I stumbled upon a dichotomy (n. division into two) in the hallway and frantically chose the path to the left, hearing the guard running right on my tail. My lungs were burning from exhaustion and I was gasping for air, but I had to keep running no matter what. This is the only chance I have to make it out. Then I started to see a bright white light in the distance. Freedom! I started sprinting as hard as I could with renewed vigor towards the exit. Then I felt something hit me in the head. A sharp pain jolted throughout my skull for a split second, then I blacked out. “She almost escaped, but we managed to get her just in time” said one of the prison guards, dragging the unconscious body and tossing it back into the cell.
It was Wednesday when I was asking their approbation (n; approval) to go to the math contest this Friday. I was not going to be participating, I was mainly just going to get a free one hundred quiz grade and to grab free several slices of pizza. However, I will probably be there until the end of the contest to get practice since I was probably going to participate next year as I would be in a high enough math class that my math teacher, Mr. Grady who was not extraneous (adj; not relevant), wants. The contest only allows five people per team and I laud (v; to praise highly) the five people participating from my school. They were smart and Mr. Grady was hoping to at least be in second place.
Making sure that there was not anything in their schedule, we eventually made a consensus (n; an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole) to all go there and for my parents to pick me up early from school to get to the contest by the time it starts. Now, I am at the contest. The room was like a miniature auditorium. It had two screens, one on the right and one on the left. On the stage, there was a board that had all the school’s names participating in that round and in that room on the bottom in a row. Above the school’s names were numbers that represented the team’s score. It had just started and I went to Mr. Grady to make sure he knew I was here so I could get that automatic one hundred quiz grade. Then, I went to go get a seat. The instructions on how the contest works was already told by the time we arrived but we eventually figured out how it worked. One problem would be given at a time for one minute, all of which were multiple choice questions. After a question has been on the screen for a minute, they show everyone in the room the results of that particular problem. There were twenty three problems total if there were no ties. If there was a tie, they had three extra problems for the teams to do until one team broke the tie. When a team thinks they know the answer, the team captain will press the letter on a device and press enter. The first team to get the right answer gets three points. The second team to get the right answer gets two points, the third team gets one point, the team(s) that answer incorrectly get(s) negative one, and the rest get zero. If the team does not know the answer, then it would be wise to not enter anything so they won’t be penalized with a negative one. My mom had brought paper for all of us. For me, the paper was to practice the problems on the screen. I would also write the time that I figured out my answer verses the fastest time a team figured out the answer. For my dad, it was to copy down the problems. Later, we found out that it was not allowed although the staff assistant did not say why. However, still wanting to copy the problems to practice at home, we decided to be mavericks (n; rebels) and have my mom write it instead and pretend we did not know each other if my mom also gets caught.
At first, my team seemed to be doing well when on the tenth problem my team’s answer device did not seem to be working. The team captain, Aaron, claimed he typed in A but on the screen it said that our team did not type any letter in. Since the stupid device could not show any proof what he typed in, the staff members could not do anything to change the score. About three questions later, the screen did not match up with what Aaron claimed to have typed in. Again, since they had terrible answer devices, the staff members could not do anything and my team ended up getting one subtracted from their score. After that, we did not have any problems with the devices. When there were three more questions left, our team decided to not answer anymore since all the other teams were more than nine points behind us and therefore would not be able to catch up unless my team gives the wrong answer. At about this time, all of Mr. Grady’s math students came in, now that our school was over, with signs silently cheering on our team. Many of those who looked behind them giggled since some of the signs were a bit funny. I walked over to them to hold a sign that was creative and not mundane (adj; common, unimaginative) and someone took a picture of us. Once this round was over, we all ran over to the rooms that had pizza. Once my classmates had their slices of pizza and made sure Mr. Grady knew they had come to get their one hundred quiz grade, they all left. While in the pizza room, a light bulb suddenly went out and a pungent (adj; sharp taste or smell) smell inundated (v; flooded) the room. Since I already had my fill of pizza, I ran out of the room through the hallway. When the hallway led to a dichotomy, it took me a second to remember which path would lead to the lounge. Since our team won, we automatically went into the final round which had forty seven problems. Before the final round began, Angela told me that she at least wanted to not have a negative final score and to at least have double digits. During the final round, it started the same way as the first round. At first, they were doing fine, then they started having problems with the answer device. After having problems with the device three times, Mr. Grady finally decided to switch team captains since he believes that it is feasible (adj; possible) that he accidentally pressed a button by accident when he constantly has his hands over the device, getting ready to quickly type the answer in. After the switch, our team had no more problems with the answer device. However in the end, we ended up getting fifth. Our final score was fourteen which was not a negative and was a double digit but Angela still was not very pleased. Everyone tried to be in a good mood except for Angela but I could tell no one was very happy with the outcome. When we all left, I calculated the points we lost because of that device. It turned out that we could have gotten a tie for third if we did not have problems with that device. I hope next year, they will fix their answer device so that it will show a record of what the person typed in so that there will not be an argument on what letter they typed in. Overall though, I hope we will do better.
I am a dog. As i sit and wait for the approbation (n.) or approval of the humans i wait. All i want is someone to play with me. My consensus (n), opinion, on the , matter is that no on should do anything till i personally get played with. A pungent (adj., sharp smell, whipped over me and still the ball remained the most incredible object of my desire. As all the people started a dichotomy ( v.) or branching into two i was starting to loose hope that no one would be playing with me today. But then i heard a noise. It sounded like an extraneous (adj.) or not relevant, voice. I turned around and right before me was a cute little girl who called my name and ran to throw her arms around me. I as a dog have never felt to loved in my whole life. As i carried that ball around i was living the life. It was feasible (v.) that today was one of the greatest days, or at least it was possible in my eyes. I felt overwhelmed or inundated (v.) with excitement. My fur blew in the wind and i was all smiles. Sometimes its the small gestures in life that are the greatest. I was not longer a rebel or maverick (n.). I knew now i was on the verge of becoming a mundane dog (adj.) or one of worldly adventure in me. My new owner and i were about to show the world what we have to offer. I carry this mall in my mouth with pride in every step. I have learned that every day is important you just have to find the right person to make the memories last with. I did and i couldn’t be happier.
As I trotted back to him, I wondered how he would laud (v. to praise highly) me. I greatly desired his approbation ( n. approval) as an owner, and I thought it might be feasible (adj. possible) to inundate (v. overwhelm; flood, submerge) him with joy with this tennis ball. You might be thinking that something as mundane -( adj. worldly as opposed to spiritual, everyday) as a tennis ball would be extraneous (adj. not relevant) to a Dog-Owner relationship. I want our relationship to be a happy one. As the pungent (adj. sharp taste or smell) taste of the dirty ball began to reach my tounge, my mind began to split into a dichotomy (n. branching into two parts especially contradictory ones), and I really had to think about the very sentences I just told you. My mind was going crazy. Do I even want to give the ball back? Why? It’s a stupid ball! Why? What if I don’t want to give it back? But among all of these maverick (adj. rebel, nonconformist) thougts, there were a few peaceful ones in the back, telling me it would be ok. So the many varing oppinions inside me reached a consensus (n. an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole), and I dropped the ball at his feet, and waited for him to throw it again.
Oh how much i hate this tennis ball. I detest the humans for not even asking my approbation(approval) to make me fetch this ball. I wonder what caused them to achieve the consensus(an opinion reached by a whole) that we dogs liked to have balls thrown so we could fetch them. If it was feasible(possible) for us to converse with each other and vote on how dogs should be treated then we would probably arrive at a dichotomy(branching into two parts especiallty contradictory ones). I believe it is time for us dogs to become mevericks(rebels) and inundate(overwhelm) the humans. We will use our gifted noses to sniff out the pungent(sharp taste or smell) smelling humans, we shall make them laud(to praise highy) us. While it may be extraneous(not relevant) I believe that we have a chance against the humans due to their weakness, which is their mundane(wordly as opposed to spiritually) habitat, while we have the blessings of Santa’s Litte Helper
Kedler walked dejectedly from his owner. He had no time for him anymore. Ever since the new girlfriend came around, Kedler had been ignored and even shunned. His fur had become slightly pungent (adj, sharp taste or smell) from lack of a bath for two months. He tried again and again to befriend the newcomer that believed that Kedler was extraneous(adj, not relevant). She cowered away from him, avoiding any close contact with what she called a “furry little beast”. She was trying to convince Andrew to get rid of Kedler, but thankfully he had refused, lauding(v, praise) me for my good companionship. Lately the girlfriend had been spending more and more time around Andrew, taking his attention, and slowly picking at his approbation(n, approval) for Kedler. He seemed to be inundated(v, overwhelmed) with his feelings for the girlfriend, letting her change things he swore that would never change. She moved Kedler’s bed and food bowl to the garage. He shivered on cold nights and sweltered on summer days. She had him locked in the garage, never letting him out to relieve hiimself when she told Andrew she had. It seemed as if a dichotomy(n, branching into two parts – especially contradictory ones) was forming, separating the house into Kedler and the humans. He felt rejected and alone, no longer did his master come and play with his favorite pet, but he almost never saw Andrew anymore. Was it feasible(adj, possible) that Andrew had stopped loving Kedler? He never scratched his belly anymore, and he barely even checked on Kedler anymore. He was seen as no longer a part of the family, a maverick(n, nonconformist) among a family he was no longer a part of. His life became mundane(adj, worldly as opposed to spiritual, everyday) moving from one activity to another mechanically. He never got walks, he slept in the garage, he ate very little and felt the lowest he ever had here in Andrew’s home. It was no longer Kedler’s home. One day Andrew came into the garage, seeming happy to pick up the dog, and Kedler wagged his tail and smiled for his master. Maybe Kedler had somehow redeemed himself, he was back in Andrew’s good graces. They had probably reached a consensus(n, an opinion or position reached by a group as a whole
) that the girlfriend was to leave and Kedler was to return to his master’s room where he belonged. Andrew put Kedler in his lap in the car, and the girlfriend wasn’t there. They drove, with Andrew scratching behind his ears like he always had. They stopped and came out at a place that smelled like a lot of animals were there. Was this a new home? Andrew sat Kedler in his lap as they waited in a room with a lot of other pets and masters. Andrew’s name was called, and he and Kedler walked into the office. Andrew left the office without Kedler, walking slowly and fingering his wedding ring. A single tear motioned a stream of tears for his pet, his best friend, his old buddy. Kedler was gone, and now all he had was his wife. He knew she wouldn’t ever be able to make this up to him. Andrew walked to the car and said a silent prayer for his dog, hoping his next life could be spent with a master that deserved him.
My dog is always sitting and starring at me for approbation (n, approval). He always gives me the look that inundates (v, overwhelm) me to spoil him. It is not feasible (adj, possible) for me to ignore him. I take him into the kitchen to get him something to eat. His pungent (adj, sharp smell) sense makes his tail wag. At this point, he lauds (v, praise highly) me. He is not a maverick (n, rebel) until he gets what he wants. What I am I going to do with him if I can’t even make a consensus (n, opinion reached by a group as a whole) with the little people inside my head. After he is done eating I take him out to play fetch, one of his favorite mundane (adj, everyday) activities. It is extraneous (adj, not relevant) for me not to play fetch with him. I love him though and we will never end up in a dichotomy (n, two parts).
I sprint down the hall searching for any feasible exit, but find none. This is my life from day to day, extraneous and irrelevant. Like a rat in a maze who can never find a way out. Inundated by the struggle I sit and wonder what it must feel like to not have to worry about the mundane struggles of the world. I am poor, but what if I was rich? This dichotomy meditation happens often, even without the approbation of me. This hallway is what my mind looks like from day do day. Dark and searching for someone to laud me. Positive attention is something that we all need weather people admits it or not. Early on I strived to be a maverick but the problem is I wasn’t sure in what I was rebelling. In this hallway I have a pungent smell of delicious food but am allowed none of it. This hallway is a hallway that every one has rich or poor. In theist world to day people have made a silent consensus not to talk about it.
***
Mr. Long: Definitions? Parts of speech? Because this is a quiz, it is vital that you do everything required to get full credit.
I had obviously not received the approbation (n; approval) of the mad scientists that were using me for their experiments. They had reached a consensus (n; position reached by a group as a whole) that they would kill me, that I was sure of. But I didn’t know why. It had started out as a few simple procedures, and I needed the money. But things started to get strange. I soon found out that they were not really testing a new cold medication on me, that was extraneous (adj; irrelevant). I overheard them speaking of a toxic agent that could wipe out cities at a time. I had to get out and tell anybody who would listen. I was inundated (adj; overwhelmed) by the information I had received. I’ve never been much of a maverick (n; rebel) in my life, but I knew that I needed to be then, and I began looking for any feasible (adj; possible) way out of the situation. During my time in their laboratory, I noticed that these scientists had a difference of opinion, a dichotomy (n; branching into two parts). There was one man who seemed to be uninterested in the destructive properties of the toxin they were creating, but the others kept him around because he was the best scientist they had. I decided to speak with him. I would laud (n; to praise highly) him and try to get him on my side. I convinced him to help me escape this mundane (adj; worldly) place. Later that night, he unlocked the rear entrance to the laboratory and told me to run as fast as i could. I was almost to the end of the hallway when I heard an alarm followed by shouting. I had no choice but to jump out the nearest window. I ran back a few steps and proceeded to drop kick my way out of the window and into a dumpster. I couldn’t stand the pungent (adj; sharp smell) odor so I quickly got out and ran down the street. I never heard from any of them again, and I have yet to see any cities wiped out by a poisonous gas.
I am responding to student 4
I read your story and felt like I was there. Every word seems to flow perfectly. All the description seems so real. I got lost in the story and when it was over I was surprised to look up and have everything be normal. It showed that the character had a relationship with the person who had put her there, because he knew what she would do so well. It shows that the relationship was really strong, and that it hurt the other person that they were done. Otherwise, I don’t think the other person would have been able to do what they did. I don’t know if that’s how you originally meant for it to work, but that’s my interpretation. I enjoyed this piece greatly and hope that others can get as lost in it as I did.
I am responding to student #40
That story was amazing!!! This week I really didn’t want to do a vocab story and it probably wasn’t my best work, but you really pulled through. When I first saw the picture you were talking about in your story I pictured some sort of spirit or a nightmare, I would have never thought of an alien invasion. I thought it was clever the way that you used “dichotomy”, I didn’t want the twins to separate but the affect was really cool. Knowing that the twins were the same in every way but in the end were for to divide was really cool. I was a little confused when you said that Jordan was a morning person and Alice wasn’t though. If they were the same in every way wouldn’t they both be morning people or night owls? Regardless, your story was awesome and I was actually excited to read it so I could comment on it.
We saw the sudden movement of a crazed dog. He moved ever so slightly to a feasible (possible; n) location of his yellow tennis ball, but when he arrived at the black and white bench he saw nothing at all, and looked back toward his owner for some type approbation (approval; n). Then when the “little tan dog that could,” looked back he saw nothing but the wind. He all of a sudden smelled a pungent (sharp smell; adj) scent that stung the nostrils. It was the smell of a juicy beef sandwich that he lauded (to highly praise; v) and wanted so bad the he started to jump up and down till he saw the two companions came to a consensus (a position reached by a group; n) that the “little tan dog that could,” could have a piece of beef. When the piece of beef fell it was inundated (submerged; v.) in BBQ sauce, the dog fell in love and nearly forgot that he was looking for a ball, so the dog attempted to communicate to the humans by barking, but the two people thought nothing of the extraneous (not relevant; adj.) dog bark. So the dog soon figured out that they didn’t want anything to do with him so he left and went on his way, but now his brain was now dichotomy (branching into two; n) to keep on for his ball or to find his owner. But the maverick (rebel; n) soon found out that he could do both because his owner was in front of him with the yellow tennis ball in his hand. The “little tan dog that could” found his ball and headed home with the yellow tennis ball in his mouth.
im responding to student 40:
Oh my gosh!!!
I think you should write a book. Like, no joke, you have amazing skills for writing! This story took me in from the very first sentence, and thats what I look for in books. And that’s why I love to read.
Your story is like something that’s never been done before, something fresh. I absolutely loved it.
I’m responding to student #6
This story was really interesting and well, different. I mean this in a good way not in a oh it was bad so I’m going to call it interesting. I was trapped by the first line. “Eight minuets.” I wanted to figure out what was going to happen in eight minuets. You set this up really well. I could feel the ominous presence of the end, just when the two girls split and one disobeyed. The end wasn’t what I was expecting, but that made it even better, because predictable stories aren’t very entertaining to read. This story also made me wonder, and think about if the sun ever really would burn out and by doing so destroy our solar system. That led me to the thoughts of whether or not there was and is other life out there that will take the space. That will form and grow to fill the endlessness of space.
This story was really good, and not only because it was well written, but because it made me think.
I’m responding to Student #7.
Though the narrator is miserable, I can’t help but find this story humorous. I laughed out loud when I read “show off your slaves day.”
Usually dogs are all happy and up in your face, which was why this story caught my attention. This dog seems to have the viewpoint of a cat – salvaging dignity, loathing everything… And it’s hilarious because in the picture he’s so cute!
I actually have a dog that I think lives just the same way. It’s not like he’s been abused or anything; he just hates being hugged and goo-goo-talked and obeying commands. You say “come” and he’ll deliberately walk the other way. He can’t let go of his dignity, and he just can’t accept humans being dominant over him.
And he’s small and fluffy, too. I think that must have something to do with it.
My Response to Student #30:
Your story has a nice concept. You see a ghost on the third floor of some building, but no one believes you. A huge story could be composed out of this. This could be a nice suspense story mixed with a little horror. In the story, you could prove to everyone that there IS a ghost; the feeling that you’re right and everyone else is wrong is great. You can describe why exactly you went into the building the first place. Did you go there just because you were bored? Or maybe you live in that building but you hear strange noises upstairs every time you sleep… You could describe why that ghost came in to being (and why she would tell you to laud people more). Was she an absolute loser when she was physically alive and had to become a spirit who could never rest in peace until she did something? Tell the reader what that something is. Maybe you are the person that can help her rest her soul; maybe you are her savior.
I think you can definitely expand your story into a very interesting one. You have a very good basic foundation; now you just have to add the decorations and the subtle nuances. This story has potential.
I’m responding to Student #1
Your title got me. “Ode to Tennis Ball”. Thats kind of funny. I like how you use the dog in first person. Its funny and ingenious especially for that picture. I like how you called the dog Fluffy. I mean that name reminds me of that one picture, if you have ever seen it, where it says, “Meet the Destroyer of the World…..Fluffy.” The viewpoints and thoughts of the dog now make me wonder what my dog is thinking. Especially when my dog will do anything for my food. Oh well its a good story,
8.4 out of 10. I heard this story many times from movies and books.
In response to student # 4
that was really interesting. You know, I could see some crazy person doing this. This would be a really good book. Cool thing is, is that this story is short and interesting. It’s not like 50 paragraphs long. It also kind of makes me feel like I’m there. Everything flows just in the right way. The description really pulls me into the story.
I am responding to Student #1
Wow! I think your story is adorable. I think it is so creative that you wrote the story from the dog’s point of view. Obviously other people thought so as well because many of the stories about dog picture followed your example. The part where fluffy thinks she is going to be a hero basically is my favorite part. Your story caught my attention right away and I think you have great writing skills! The way you describe the animal cop is great and I love that Fluffy thinks it has been a lifetime in jail when it had only been three hours.
I am impressed by the way you wrote this story and how creative it is. I also like the ending when she gets treats even though she doesn’t get the recognition she wanted. I really enjoyed your story and it was amazing! By the way, I love your title, it is so cute!
I am responding to Student Number Fifty-Four.
I loved yours! I thought it was clever and funny. Where did you get such an interesting idea? I liked how you still kind of took the assignment seriously, but without making it crazy dramatic. It was a nice contrast to the darker nature of most of the other entries (including my own). I laughed out loud at your story! I loved how it had a serious tone to it, but the plot itself was really funny.
‘Napawleon’…a cheesy pun, but clever nonetheless! Good job!
I am responding to Student #18
Your story appealed to me for several reasons. To begin with, it was light-hearted and easy to read. Secondly, as a pet owner, I tried to picture my cats being involved in the CIS and my dog being a member of the FIS. The way you weaved the intelligence service agencies into your story made me chuckle. Also, I really liked how you used “natural dichotomy” to reference the inherent differences between canines and felines. Your use of “cracking down on catnip smuggling” showcased your sense of humor. Your line about how the CIS operative “conveniently dropped … miniature explosives [disguised as kibble]” was creative. Mostly, I think your story was unique as compared to the other stories of Image #2. You only made reference to the tennis ball once, unlike my story (and others) about Image #2 in which the tennis ball seemed to be the main focus.
The only thing I would question is this. Did the CIS agent really endear himself to the preacher by drooling all over him? Perhaps preachers are more forgiving than most of us.
I am responding to student #29.
Your story has a very interesting concept. Two scientists (are they ALIENS?) from Neptune come to Earth in their ship. They are so mystified and amazed by Earth that they can’t leave. This story is not your average alien story. Most aliens, or people from outer space, usually do want to come home because they are either terrorized or are weirded out by the customs. But you didn’t do that. You got them so in love with the Earth that they sacrificed their way back home. I also loved how you ended the story. The love within the sand and the water really made me interested. I had no idea that just by beauty, aliens could stay or Earth(or that Neptune must have looked like a ghost town). Insane story
speaking to writer number 54:
This was a really cute story! I liked the name Napawleon! Way to incorporate history into your vocab story. hehe. It was very comical. 😀 I always seem to have someone die or be in a really critical moment in life in most of my stories. Sometimes we just need a light-hearted, fun story like yours. I think it’s funny that they put the children in the dumpsters. haha. I imagined my dog being one of the dogs that was helping with the “attack.” But he’s very very very ADD, and I imagined him running toward the children and then start chasing a butter fly that he saw and completely forgetting about his mission. My poor dog. 😀
I’m responding to student #1.
I love your story from the moment I saw the title. I enjoyed just about every moment while I was reading and laughing. I like how you had Fluffy in first person and thought Fluffy’s personality was cute and funny. Determined Fluffy going miles just to get her tennis ball and ended up getting herself injured and lost. At least she got her tennis ball back, got reunited with her owner and got lots of treats. I thought her expectations for her reputation was funny. I know I sometimes want those huge expectations at the same time as knowing that I am not going to get near the amount of credit I wish for.
As I am just now looking at Student Response #9, I must say, I agree with that student’s thoughts. Your story is indeed adorable. Overall, it is really a great story. Keep up the good work.
I am responding to #14
This was a very intersting story. I feel that the writer used the vocabulary very well. The words were used correctly and flowed very well. I also like how they put the definition so that the reader can understand it better.
The only problem that i saw with this entry was that they ended the story too quickly. I got caught up in reading this interesting story but it ended in a sudden halt.
I am responding to student #4
From the moment I read the first sentence of your story I was hooked. It kept me glued the whole time wondering whether the girl got out or not. What is totally sad though is this kinda thing actually does happen and it really freaks me out. Your story reminds me of a Forensic Files I watched the other day which is why I think I was drawn to your story because you made a seemingly unlikely plot and made it seem real. What I didn’t get though is the “death of three people” part. Did the guy kill three people and then the girl found out about it and said she didn’t love him anymore? Your story I thought was very well written with a dramatic plot but not making the overall story too dramatic if you know what I mean. I’m glad she got out, the end left me wondering if the guy ever gets caught or if he trie it again. Great story!
I am responding to student #32.
I thought it was very interesting how they wrote in terms of the dog, rather than from a humans perspective. When I first read it, I didn’t even notice the vocab words ‘stuck’ in their, which is the goal right? So good job on that. I like this story because it is different than the others and unique in itself. The sentences flowed very nicely and the story made sense. The vocabulary words were also used correctly and were incorporated into the story well. Good job on building the story around the picture instead of the vocab words. I think you pulled through on this one nicely.
I am responding to Student #40.
Wow, it’s a great story. I know who you are, of course, as we were talking about aliens and then you said you would write a vocab story about them. I loved the twist on how the twins, who were the same in “every way”, ended up separating, but came back together “in death” at the end. Your last sentence concluding the story was a very nice wrap-up. Usually, vocab stories are strained and choppy, but this one was really flowing and very nice. I loved the use of the word ‘dichotomy’ – I had trouble with that one in my story, and you pulled its use off really nicely. The suspense you built throughout the piece was great, and I was hooked the entire time. The ‘invasion’ of the aliens into the human body was very similar to Stephanie Meyer’s The Host, which I thought was really interesting. If you ever are going to write more stuff, this would be a great story to expand!
I am responding to student #21
I really like the stroy. The whole concept of the helicoptors and this girl. It was really creative stroy and you put the vocabulary words right in there. I like that it isn’t really long just going like forever. You really are good at writing. I was glued on your story from the moment I read the first line. it captures the readers attention. Good job overall!!
Response to student number 6
Hahahahahhahhahahaha.
Such a beautiful beginning crushed with harsh ending. I’d say the entry stresses you don’t know what ya got til’ it’s gone subject. Interesting. Eight Minutes, “the push and pull of the sand between their toes” PERFECT. Language somewhat foreshadows eventual separation of the two children. As I started to read, I could sense the child to parent relationship immediately. It almost seemed as if eight minutes left meant time to play on the beach, every one can remember a time in their childhood when a superior said it’s time to get out of the ball pit. But then the ending, maybe you felt a little weak and wanted to show readers you can be fierce also. haha.
I really liked it, I’d say it’s one of the most unique vocab stories I’ve read this year.
I’m responding to student #4.
I felt like I was reading some kind of murder mystery. I know I was, but I mean like a true novel that my grandparents would read. This was just overall a great story, I liked the letter, that was a great touch.
I will say that I wish we had an ending. The story just kind of stops at the end, the story doesn’t finish itself. Even without the ending, it’s a great story.
They did a very good job of using the vocab words, there isn’t a single word that seems forced it all flows. I really enjoyed reading this story, well done!
I am responding to Student #13
I liked your story. It’s a little like Matrix, which I will always love. I liked the surprising betrayal of Saul at the end. Every good story needs something like that. I wished you let your heroine live, though. It’s set up too well to completely stop with the death of protagonist. If you could have found some way to let her escape ( maybe she jumped out of the van) we could imagine the next set up of revenge. I enjoyed the excellent description of action and sense of desperation throughout the story.
I would like to respond to student numero uno.
( Or # 1)
I just wanted to start off that I totally fell in love with your story. Not only because it was the first in a long line of stories, but because I thought it was so cleverly done. You definetly know a thing or two about dogs which, could lead me to guess that you own one? And if you do own one, I’m jealous because I’ve always wanted to own a dog, but do to some family issues that never happened.
At first I thought your story may have been a poem, because I may just be simple-minded and still believe that an Ode is just a poem, but I was pleasantly surprised and I totally loved the story. It was so cute and I could totally see this being like an actual story of a pet owner.
In a nutshell, amazing job and I hope to read more of your stories soon.