Luck is a gift; a gift that Patrick does not possess. He had hope at one point, but now he’s fully convinced that he’s somehow cursed. Maybe it’s part of being a teenager, but he’s still not too sure. Everyone has some misfortunes at times, yes, but not typically a tragedy a day. While the tragedies aren’t absolutely horrible, they are enough to send Patrick into some form of an existential crisis, asking himself what he could’ve possibly done to receive such horrible luck.
Now, Patrick does have good days, but they aren’t very common. It’s more likely that he’ll somehow drop an amp on the toes of his sneakers while trying to lug the band equipment back into the van after a show than it would be to find a stray ten-dollar bill in one of his pockets. It’s always the little things that count, he likes to tell himself. It’s a comforting statement at this point for him.
I have made a grave mistake. The world was falling apart, crime and poverty was an everyday occurrence. I was supposed to be the one that made the rule that would save humanity and I messed up really badly. I made up the rule that everyone rich could get more money.At the time it felt like a good idea because I was about to buy four golf courses and the Galapagos Island but looking back out of my many smart decision making that wasn’t in my top 30. Greedily, the poor who were committing the crimes because they needed the money were outraged and rebelled against the government. They had numbers so now the whole world is chaos and even though usually I am very smart I don’t know what to do. Anyway, I was writing to you because you can’t make the same mistake as I did even though it was really not that bad. From, Donald Trump.
The alarm strikes obnoxiously at 4:45 a.m. I slam the top of it and it falls to the ground. I open my eyes to the sun shining through them. Clock reads; 8:56. AWESOME. Late. I sprint to the shower, now deprived of hot water. Now fully awake and covered in frostbite, I grab my stuff, get dressed, and drive to school.
The space between the gas needle and E could not be a more accurate depiction of my patience left after this hour into the day. I arrive at school at 10:23, greeted with a nice yellow paper reserving my time for 45 minutes after school. "Test tomorrow!" my math teacher projects as I open the door, and the bell rings and my whole class floods out.
I get to lunch, and realize I forgot my lunch box on the counter. So I sit there, starved, uneducated, and a mess.
Kid: Hello! Teacher: Hello Jeff. Kid: Do you think we could not have homework on Wednesdays? Teacher: Why wouldn't I give your class homework, you're the most annoying class I have. Kid: Yes, but we could clean your room for you. Teacher: Yes, but I cleaned it yesterday. Kid: It would be less work for you to do. Teacher: I already have a lot of work to do for my other classes, what's another couple of terrible essays to grade? Kid: What if we made a deal? Teacher: I'm listening. Kid: What if every Wednesday you don't give us homework, on the condition that we clean AND organize your room every Thursday during free period? Teacher: That sounds Great! Kid: Really!? Teacher: Ha, no I want a five page essay by the end of the week about the Civil War. Kid: Hahaha, you're just being sarcastic again right? Teacher: No.
I stand watching as the wind wissels and whips past my window frame. The bugs are out today, I can tell by thier Buazzing and Buauauzing. I think slowly about the day that has passed. the troubles, the woubles, my cat sofly mews as she takes her perch on my head, licking my earlobe afctionatly, as if to reasure me, that everything will be okay. I have a plan. But instead of reasure me this time, my cat releases her kindeys, thier eyes smiling at me. Her teeth slowly eat my hair, until there is none left. All freshly pulled, in the shredded pile by my feet. But I know, no matter what, I will keep on chomping through the day.
My first memory from when i was a little kid, i have a really bad memory so i dont remeber a lot. The first thing i ever remeber was i was at the killington daycare and my mom worked at killington and it was nap time, i didnt like nap time, so when the daycare people thought everyone was alseep i snuck over to door, but the door had a baby proof handle so it took me a while to figure it out but i eventually got it, then i looked both ways in the hall way to make sure no one saw me seeking out, then i ran across the hall to the other room. THERE WAS THE TEACHER i quickly ran around the corner to my moms office. She was mad then she procided to tell me how i do it every day so i sat in her office till napped time was over eating cheese doodles then nap time was over, and i could go play again.
He was told not to wander off after the show. But did he listen? Of course not, he thinks he’s brave enough to finally go somewhere without a close friend with him. He was definitely wrong.
He pulled his trucker hat further down to hide his eyes from others and he stared at the ground as he walked. He didn’t bother anyone, so he didn’t expect to be bothered, but then a seemingly cliché bully type of guy, tall and muscular, approached him.
“Aren’t you the singer of that band that just performed? Why are you out here? Why aren’t you hiding behind your boyfriend?” “He’s not my boyfriend.” “Who is he, then? Who even are you, anyway?” “He’s the bassist of our band, and he’s my friend, not my boyfriend. It’s none of your business what his name is. And as you guessed before, I’m the lead singer of our band. My name is Patrick.” “Whatever,” The male said. “A tiny loser like you shouldn’t be out here alone.”
Heyyyy creator, ya know when you made me you didn't have to make me a lazy slouch. This is my third time late to school... today. I don't know how that's possible but you did it, thanks a lot dude. Hi people reading this, my name is Kyle, and i'm a work of fiction by my creator. His nicknames Richard (if you get my meaning). He's a nice fella when he wants to be, but he usually isn't. He likes to make short storys where people are super lazy or depressed. Probably because he's always like that himself. It's the only way he can express himself. When he made me a fourth wall breaker, he didn't realize he would lose control over me. Neither did I to be honest. It's magical that i'm living, and i'm trying to figure out why this is happening. Maybe if you changed my personality, I could figure it out RICHARD. Him and I are not buddies, but i'm trying to help him get back on his feet so I can find my purpose in life. I know deep right.
Explanation- The tiny kitty was found by the sympathetic cat lover that rescued him. Everything went seemingly purrfect until she decided to go shopping for treats for her new sweet pet-and was overwhelmed by the amount of food and supplements available. However, the tiny cat proved to have a great appetite and the growth and healthy weight gain of the previously malnourished animal was improving just "as advertised". However, things soon went a little too far....
Note: For some reason the picture was cropped up at the top. I am not sure why- is the size of the file too large? Or is it just because I was uploading in a mobile device and the screen is skewed up?
Hello! I've been a bit absent again, so I wanted to share some of my work outside of YWP. I'm currently in a creative writing workshop class at CVU, which I highly reccommend to any writerly CVU students! It's an experimental class, but so far it's been going great, and will hopefully be offered for many years to come. This post and perhaps a few more to come were created for/during this class.
“Why were you at the dock at 11 o’ last night?” the interrogator leaned towards me, piercing me like a pine plank with those morn’-caught salmon eyes.
“I’m a fisherman.”
“Your boat was long in.”
I snorted slightly. If that was writt’n in verse, I wouldn’t ‘ve been on that dam dock. “I was gettin’ my boots.”
“Why would you need your boots at that hour of night?” ‘
I was in the pet store and it was 5 minutes till closing time and I was stuck between a cute husky and a snake.THen when it struck me if I take the dog home that means that I will have to feed and clean up after him.and if I take the snake that meant I will have to take it to the store and find it a cage and that would take time. And I like the time I get it hard to take time off from work. Five minutes were up when I left the store I had more time then I would have had before I went into the store.
I am King Mallo, ruler of all Marshmallownians. I am in charge of making sure all peace is kept in the world of the Mallows. I became King of the Marshmallownians by being the oldest and wisest at over 4018 years old. I have made many tough decisions for the laws and regulations of my kingdom. All Fluffians are outlawed because of how much of a mess they can cause. All major criminals are sent to the burning pits where their skin is burnt, bubbled, and eventually melted off in a fiery blaze. The most dangerous and highly illegal "Marshmellows" are the artificially made ones, they are instantly killed on sight because of the fact that they are a biohazard to everyone, and everything. I can be a difficult job at times, but I King Mallo will remain a fair and honest ruler that will stop at nothing to ensure the well-being of my Marshmallownians.
He was a dumb ruler of something stupid. He couldn’t even get dressed right in the morning. He wore socks on his hands and mittens on his feet. He Didn't even know where his pants belonged, he put them on his head and wore only underwear. His shirt was always backward and his hat well you can guess where he put that… anyways he walked around like he was the smartest man alive but everyone knew he was dumb. He walked around the junkyard like he was king of the world but no, he ruled the junk of the town. He owned what everybody else didn’t want, the trash, the bad Christmas presents that sat in everybody’s basement until they paid the dumb ruler five dollars to throw it in his junkyard. His throne is a broken rusted bike, and he probably shouldn’t even sit on it. He built a shack out of old lice infested couches and acts like it’s a castle. The townsfolk all assume he just never grew out of the dumb imagination stage.
Every single day Exactly the same I wake up And then fall asleep Breathing the same air as yesterday. My stepmother yells at me My stepsisters yell at me The birds help me out My fairy godmother shows up I leave in a pumpkin Lose my shoe at the ball yadda yadda Every freaking day. The problem is that My step family and I get along well. The Prince has warts and a nasty temper. The pumpkin rots sometimes so we have to use an acorn squash. And still, we all know In “real life” we don’t exist. Which is kinda funny considering that we all have the same body parts as “humans.” But that’s okay. We will just keep being a figment of someone else’s imagination. PS If the dude who wrote me is still around, Can you please tell him to change my name? Cinderella is pretty dumb.