Good Afternoon!
So the first subject I'd like to touch on is the apology I'm about to give you for not posting the 'An African Affair' personal response because quite frankly...I don't have one...sorry :(
I literally thought I had one somewhere on my computer but I looked everywhere and just couldn't find one! Maybe in the future I'll make one. I feel that's a better idea for I can look back on my work and produce a better evaluation on my piece.
Now I would like to talk about Mondays. Hmm...Mondays...I loathe them...well everyone hates them don't they? I bet the percentage of people who have a relaxing weekend and realize they have to go back to work at 7 on a Monday morning is 99.999999999999999999999%.
So here is a challenge for those reading my blog. Write a story about a Monday. That's it! It doesn't matter whether it was a good day or bad day, the fact that if you write a good Monday story I might loathe and block you from this blog...kidding xD. Then send it to me at george.ross23@btinternet.com & I shall post it on here along with others.
Thank you!!
Fuzz
(P.S - Check out the apps!!)
My Story About a Monday That I Wrote Because George Wanted Me to Make a Comment - By Zetsa
ReplyDeleteOnce upon a time, there was a Jimmy. This Jimmy hated Mondays because, like Garfield, all he did was sleep and eat lasagna and annoy a small grey cat named Nermal. One particular Monday, he was dragged to his school cursed by voodoo magic to fall apart at world's end (the principal ran over a voodoo magic person's only son and didn't apologize). Serendipitiously (is that a word?), the Creator(s) of the Universe(s) decreed that that Monday would be the END OF THE EARTH, which meant that this Jimmy's school would fall apart. Jimmy felt indifferent towards this issue, and as the teachers around him burst into flames, his head remained plopped on his desk in pure boredom, violet from the many times he'd smacked his head on the "wood" from which the desks were constructed. He crawled along from class to class, his peers being pecked to death by killer birds as predicted by Alfred Hitchcock's famous movie (which I'm pretty sure was originally a short story), his teachers still spontaneously combusting, the flora outside of the school crumbling away and dying.
Going off on a tangent for a minute, why would the voodoo lady curse the school to be destroyed at world's end? THE WORLD IS ENDING, so the school would all ready be destroyed with it. Hmm...this plot hole isn't good -
"ZETSA!"
I ignored the voice.
"ZETSA!"
I raised my head, "WHAT?!"
"You missed it," a classmate trembled with ecstasy.
"Missed what?"
"The thing."
Damn kids and their damn short attention spans. "What thing?"
"The THING!"
I blinked and tore my sheet of paper containing the story of a Jimmy attending the school cursed by voodoo lady. While the class around me (which I assumed was math since I paid no attention) moved forward (or backward, if this was math), the torn sheets fluttered to the recycling bin. A dozen blank sheets remained in my binder, waiting to be given personality as either notes from a lecture that actually had meaning or as tales I was destined to tell.