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Dear Mrs. Yeary,
Last night I was sitting in my bedroom at my desk, doing my homework. Dad and Mom came in to my room very excited. Dad was carrying a huge black binder. They both explained how Dad had bought a new luxury motor home! The whole family rushed outside to check out what was sitting in the driveway. We spent a lot of time looking at the motor home inside and out. Everyone has something they like best about it. Dad likes all the buttons and switches on the control panel beside the steering wheel (adults call these buttons and switches ‘added options’). Mom likes the kitchenette area that has a two burner range with mini refrigerator and dishwasher. As for me, I like the bedroom best. The bed is as wide as the motor coach and really comfortable, and because the bedroom is at the very back, it’s quite and peaceful.
After we spent a lot of time looking around the motor home, Dad asked if we wanted to go for a short ride. I remembered my homework and told them I couldn’t go. Dad and Mom said to run inside and get it and that I could finish it up on the motor home. I took my homework, Mom grabbed her recipe cards, and Dad took the instruction manual. We all talked about how nice the motor home was as Dad drove us out of the neighborhood, down Cedarcrest and left on to Highway 41 toward Cartersville. After we turned on to Highway 41, Dad started driving kind of fast while turning pages in the manual and checking out what happened when he pressed buttons and flipped switches. Mom began to hum as she looked at her recipes. I couldn’t concentrate on my homework with all this going on, so I went back in to the bedroom and finished my assignment. Just as I finished and began to relax and enjoy the ride, all the windows started to open and the inside of the motor home became a whirlwind tunnel. As all the windows completely opened things started flying everywhere. Before I could catch it, my homework was picked up by the wind and carried out the back window, along with recipe cards and pieces of the manual. I watched as my homework landed in a berry bush near the road. Beside the bush was the cutest little raccoon with puppy eyes eating berries from the bush. The curious raccoon reached into the berry bush and grabbed by homework. Suddenly, the motor home stopped! Everything that hadn’t flown out the windows, jolted forward. As my dad put the motor home in park, it rolled back a little toward the raccoon. The raccoon, with a look of confusion and fear, stood there beside the road, holding in its paw my homework, watching the motor home stop just slight of rolling over him. I guess the raccoon was so shocked it didn’t notice the huge, meat eating hawk, as the hawk took the opportunity to swoop down and grab the raccoon. I stood there, looking out the window of the motor home, watching as the hawk carried off the raccoon, with my homework still clutched in its paw.
My Mom, Dad, and I slowly gathered our thoughts as cars and trucks flew past us, blowing their horns and giving us bad hand gestures. Dad put the motor home in drive, Mom found the switch to close the windows and I just sat there on the bed thinking of the poor raccoon. It wasn’t until we were back at home that I thought about my homework. By then it was too late to start over, so I decided to write you this note, hoping you would feel sorry for me (and the raccoon) and allow me an extra day to complete the assignment.
- by shark in your mouth |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 07/17/2008 |
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- Title: Dear Mrs. Yeary
- Artist: shark in your mouth
- Description: Just a project from my drama class from last year. An excuse why you wouldn't have your homework, so enjoy :)
- Date: 07/17/2008
- Tags: excusehomeworkracoonpigbushvan
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Comments (2 Comments)
- TheSoverein - 07/17/2008
- seems very unfortunate for all those events to befall you. well 4/5 nice story but if this is a letter there are suppose to be spaces between each paragragh
- Report As Spam
- x-cutie-x-pie-x - 07/17/2008
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Haha, It was really real. I almost forgot it was a letter.
Very funny though. 4/5 - Report As Spam