Adolescent Effusive

An Auspicious Start

I found this gem amongst some of my childhood relics in my mother's cupboard. Judging by the trendy open circles over the lower-case i's, I wrote this in fourth grade.

Once upon a time, there was an ugly princess named Olivia. Olivia lived in Spain. There was a witch who lived next door. One day Olivia got hit on the head with the witch's 5,000,000 pound ^magic (added in later with a carrot) anvil. The anvil made her die. She could only be alive if someone sat on her. Everybody thought she was so ugly nobody dared to touch her. One lady told the carpender to build a fence around her. So for the next mileniom Olivia didn't live unhappily ever after.

That ambiguous ending was accompanied by a rather choice drawing of a stringy haired, disproportionately limbed, pigeon-toed, cross-eyed, knobby-kneed girl wearing a triangular dress and missing every other tooth.
I also found a play I wrote and directed in second grade. It was about the disillusioned runaway penguin, Waddles, and his popular jock brother. Unfortunately, the page with the ending was lost. Or, the last thing I wrote, "They went to bed at 7:00 and got up at 5:00 to look for him" was my idea of a satisfying resolution.
This all explains why I still have problems, to this day, with ending creative writing peices. I usually don't, actually.
In addition, I found my first ever bullshitted assignment. Written at the end of my fifth grade year, I wrote a heart warmingly simplictic composition on "What Huth Road Elementary means to me." In it, I lied like I never had before. I said that Huth Road was "like a second home" and that I had "5 of the best teachers," among other blatant untruths. My favorite statement aside from the second home business was the affectionate sentance about learning to play kickball and soccer, two sports during which my classmates mocked me endlessly for constantly scoring for the other team or being too slow.
Unfortunately, this was also the first time that bullshitting an assignment came up to bite me in the face. My teacher thought my essay was so well-done, so heartfelt that she made me read it at fifth grade graduation.

posted by M.Jazz @ 2:53 PM