The Dustpan Race

I always find crazy stuff when I'm visiting home. This past weekend, I came across the following, a story I wrote in 7th grade English that I'm sure at the time seemed clever, but now reads as ridiculous. I should also note that nothing like this ever happened; whenever there were signs of mice in the house, my mom always kept it on the down-low, and would catch them before Heidi and I ever saw them. This story is purely a work of fiction. Here is the story in its entirety, maintaining all grammatical errors, etc.

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The Dustpan Race

Picture this: my little sister, playing with her dolls, all innocent like. Today's episode is about Ken marrying a beanie baby and Barbie and Theresa trying out plans to try to sabotage the wedding.

Just when Barbie was getting ready to start, my sister screamed "EEEEEEEEEKKKK! A M-M-M-M-MOUSE!"

In the blink of an eye, she was standing on a chair, holding a dustpan, and of course,the mouse stopped dead in his tracks.

Now my sister was trying to figure out where exactly Mom put the cheese and traps, but decided that it was useless, and decided to smush its furry little butt herself.

She jumped off the chair, called it a VERY bad name, and started chasing it around the house like crazy. They weaved in and out of furniture, jumped and ran under and over tables, all while whacking at it from side to side. They kept this on for about ten minutes, until finally she chased him out the door.

Do you think that is dramatic or what? Well, the other side of the story is even more dramatic than you think.

Mr. Mouse got up early that morning, wanting to go to the "grocery" store for some more Limburger cheese (he was always running out). It was his weekly morning stroll, always around seven o'clock, and today happened to be Wednesday. He ate some cheddar on rye, brushed his teeth, stretched his paws, and started on the trip.

He sort of jumped at a screeching noise from somewhere up above, He was then frozen to the spot where he was.

'WHOW!What's that?Cheese? No. OH MY GAWSH! A CAT! No, wait, it has no tail. Hey, I know what she is. She is a human. Okay, now an escape route. Under the chair? No. East? Yes! I believe that that is the way to go!'

He then ran as fast as his little feet could carry him and cringed at what she called him, and hoped and prayed that she wouldn't kill him.

He was chased around for ten minutes, and finally ran out the door. She then went back inside. Mouse waited for awhile until after dark, and stealthily crept inside. He got to hismousehole again.

"From now on," he thought, "I'm taking walks at night."

In Which There Is an Excerpt from a Novel I Will Never Finish

Last night while I was searching for some character notes, I came across the notebooks containing the very poorly-written novel attempt from when I was in high school. I never finished it, but I felt I had it planned out for sequels and other nonsense. The original partial draft is really bad, poorly written, kind of insensitive, and all sorts of crap. I didn't touch it much past my first creative writing class I took as a sophomore in college, mostly because I began to realize how horrible it was, and by then had grown up a little and had developed much different writing goals than what I had then.

I haven't looked at it in years. And believe me, flipping through it again was much more embarassing than I thought it would be, and I felt very, VERY thankful that I've grown as a writer since then. (Thank goodness for all of my fabulous writing classes and professors.)

I did find a second draft of a scene that wasn't the same degree of awful as the original draft, and so I thought I'd share it below. It was written about six years ago, probably around when I graduated high school or early freshman year of college. Don't say I didn't warn you.


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Melinda's basement was large and carpeted in a pretty cranberry shade. The main room, the first you entered when you came down the staircase, was a TV room, complete with two squashy sofas, an armchair, and coffee table. A closet was located beside a doorway leading to two other rooms, Melinda's bedroom and a laundry room.

Melinda led us down the staircase and many of the others went directly for seats on the couches as if they'd done this kind of thing all the time.

Only Kevin, Jessica, mark, and I were left to fend for ourselves for seating.

"Let's have our own party over here," Jessica said, motioning to an open wall area next to the food table, and we sat down as Melinda cleared her throat loudly to get everyone's attention.

"Okay, so before anything begins, a couple of rules. No drinking at this party. It won't be good to have a hangover the second week of school." She paused, while Cody, Kenzi, and Don laughed. "Next, we have to watch the noise level. Mom's organizing her office on the second floor, and she doesn't want to hear us. So, have fun, but not so much that she hears it clearly. Third, this is a movie party, so don't spoil the ending for those who haven't seen it! Also, the theme is 'Double the Fun,' so there will be two movies, two kinds of every kind of food, and--" she gave Kevin an odd look--"we will be playing Fourteen Minutes in Heaven."

"OH MY GOSH," Kevin said. "You're serious?" He fell over on his side in shock when she nodded.

"Names will be drawn for those who are single, and couples will have their own turn as well." Melinda pulled two containers each filled with with folded up pieces of paper out from under the food table. She stuck a hand in one of them, and pulled a slip out. "First up is Dani and Brad."

Danielle squealed loudly as she jumped up from one of the sofas, grabbed her boyfriend's hand, and shimmied into the closet. The door shut behind them with a click of final doom.

"Can we start the movie?" Laura asked, walking up to the DVD unit.

"Yeah," Melinda said, going to help.

"You guys," Kevin said, still on his side. "We get fourteen minutes. At a time."

"Calm down, Romeo," Jessica told him, as he sat up slowly. "If you fuss over it too much, you might not get your Juliet."

"Are you okay with this game, Jess?" Mark asked her, rocking on his knees.

Jessica made a face not unlike when you eat something sour. "Better than spin the bottle any day. Still, there's the element of the unknown along with it...What if I get a weirdo, like Don?"

"I heard that," Don called, his eyes glued to the movie that was now playing on the TV.

Jessica rolled her eyes.

Kevin leaned in. "There's a way to solve that issue, you know."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What's the answer?"

"Settle down, find a nice steady boyfriend. Then you know he's not weird. AND he wants to kiss you because he loves you for you, and is not just a perverted bag of testosterone."

"Don't talk to me, Kevin, you're making my brain hurt with your crazy outlook on life."

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Yep. I need to burn it. *sigh*

Worse Poetry

I never remembered that there was a short-lived literary magazine* at my high school. But, low and behold, when I went upstairs to my room to head to bed late last night, I started poking around a little bit (one of my projects for the summer/fall is doing a massive cleaning up there and getting rid of everything I don't need). On top of a pile of boxes was a booklet stapled together with a blue cover, entitled "Paint Me As I Am." 

I didn't know what it was at first. I thought it was something left over from my sister's years at the jr./sr. high, but when I saw the worn post-it note on the cover with my name on it and my fourth and fifth hour classes from Spring 2003 listed, I became exceptionally curious. 

Some of the entries are anonymous, some chose to keep their names attached to their work. Two of my poems were chosen to be included in the journal. And they're awful. So deliciously awful, in fact, that I wanted to share. 

Ahem. 

A Garden 

A bench

Set in a grove 

Flowers blossoming all around

Lilies 

Roses

Daisies

Chrysanthemums

All under a willow tree 

With low flowing branches

That grab you with love and wonder

Beside the gently babbling brook

Water softly engulfing pebbles 

With every breath it takes

Around the pebbles swim

Tiny fish

Frolicking within the 

Great expanse of what they call home

Birds sing gaily in the trees

Singing the bird song

Telling of a Garden

Nature's Garden

And, of course, the quintessential angsty high school poem, complete with subtle title, no? 

Leave me be

anger 

rage

it's not all good

don't care what you say

so mad

life hates me

shut up and listen for once 

be happy

'cause 

you're one of the lucky ones 

you probably have a life

that's all milk and honey

well you know what

i have no happy life

cause I'm not like you

don't even go there

 nor start your

foolish hypocrisy

cause it's not all good

don't laugh

not funny

don't you see

it's not all good

leave me be

One thing to understand--something that I have to keep reminding myself of--is that these poems were written when I was freshman in high school. Other than that, I'll let them speak for themselves. Happy Wednesday. :)

*If I remember correctly. I don't remember it lasting much longer than one semester because it might have been a class that put it together--but it's been about 9 years and the details have since escaped me.