(no subject)
Catherine (Konvalinka)
First English Paper
i helped come up with the story line. yay for me, but catherine wrote the paper for her english class. it rocks so hard. well read it.
The Slug:
The world’s a lonely place when you’re a slug. You have nothing you can identify with; you don’t know who you are. You’re wandering around in mucus covered skin searching for that other slug to complete you. Yes, I as a slug, have both female and male reproductive parts, giving me a life of rejection in garden society. For a long time I resorted to drugs and the Beetles to numb my reality and escape to where rocking horse people ate marshmallow pies and everyone smiled as I drifted past flowers that grew so incredibly high. But after I tried to kill my friend Timmy, I was forcibly put into rehab.
I spent many years fighting with reality, living on the streets, struggling to make a buck, and writing my memoirs. One day, I was buying crack from an earwig I went to high school with, (a small relapse after I saw a worm chopped in two with a shovel. An occurrence that’s not unusual but none the less gruesome) I was sitting on his couch when my eyes fell upon an ad in a magazine he had lying around. In bold red, circus lettering across the glossy page read: STAWBERRY FIELDS MODELING CONTEST. Shivers ran down my spine, there was my destiny: to be a hermaphrodite model.
The Cockroach:
Yeah, so I’m a cock-roach, a prostitute, the lowest of the low, but I’ve been crawling around here a lot longer then you and I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon. I’d saved enough money doing my job damn well to follow my dreams; traveling behind The Magical Mystery Tour in my beat up, used El Camino.
I remember it was a bright, sweltering day as I drove down the interstate 62. I saw in the distance a grayish blob moving along the shoulder of the highway. As I drew closer I looked out my window and met the eyes of a slug. When I stopped I could see the relief in his eyes. He looked as if a gardener had been chasing him all his life with a salt shaker. I leaned over and opened the passenger door, with a sigh he pulled himself into my car. I turned the air-conditioning up a notch and we drove for quite some time in silence. After some time, I turned to look at him, “So, tell me about yourself.” And after some small talk we launched into an unusually intimate conversation for two strangers. We talked about our families, relationships, fears, and dreams. I guess we were both starved for companionship and I guess there was something about knowing you would probably never see this person again that really lets you open up.
He spoke to me looking out the window, “It’s getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn’t matter much to me. Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to strawberry fields. Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.” It had begun to drizzle slightly as the sun was setting, I felt myself falling...hard.
“I LOVE YOU!” I couldn’t help but scream out loud.
With out batting an eyelash, like he had heard it all before, he said to me, “Baby, you don’t know what you love. You’re in love with my sorrow…besides, there’s something you don’t know about me.”
“Yes?” I coaxed
“ I got…both,” He said glancing at his lap, then at me, then back at his lap again.” This new information only made me more excited because it meant that I could share mine.
“Darling, under all this make-up, clothing, and fabulous bone structure, I’m a man who just wants to be a woman.” And our eyes met without the slightest judgment. He just looked over at me and smiled. I violently pulled over the car over and we made sweet passionate love, love that I’ve never felt before, real love, right there, pulsating beneath me. After a few hours of that nirvana, I lit up a smoke and dropped him off at strawberry fields.
The Slug:
I arrived in Strawberry Fields. I was miserably shot down for the modeling contract by a snail that had obviously had some major work done. I spent a few says binging on heroin but then I got over it.
One night, I was sleeping in the gutter and I heard the terrifying chatter of drunken Nazi squirrels. I stayed very still hoping not to attract them. These red suspender wearing punks had haunted me all my life, it was best just to lay in fetal position protecting you head. But that was the city and I was used to the suburbs. They tied me up and threw me in an acorn shell and took me to their fortress in the treetops.
I stayed unconscious for sometime and when I awoke I was in a cage. I was submitted to various rapes and tortures involving salt. When I was sure I was going to die on the third night, in burst a brigade of rats wearing cheap leather suits and carrying machine guns. They shot up the place and carried my near lifeless body with them down to the sewers where they nursed me back to heath. The Mafia Queen Ratifia initiated me into the gang where I finally felt like I had a purpose in life. But one of the Nazi squirrels that raped me had AIDS and I soon died.
First English Paper
i helped come up with the story line. yay for me, but catherine wrote the paper for her english class. it rocks so hard. well read it.
The Slug:
The world’s a lonely place when you’re a slug. You have nothing you can identify with; you don’t know who you are. You’re wandering around in mucus covered skin searching for that other slug to complete you. Yes, I as a slug, have both female and male reproductive parts, giving me a life of rejection in garden society. For a long time I resorted to drugs and the Beetles to numb my reality and escape to where rocking horse people ate marshmallow pies and everyone smiled as I drifted past flowers that grew so incredibly high. But after I tried to kill my friend Timmy, I was forcibly put into rehab.
I spent many years fighting with reality, living on the streets, struggling to make a buck, and writing my memoirs. One day, I was buying crack from an earwig I went to high school with, (a small relapse after I saw a worm chopped in two with a shovel. An occurrence that’s not unusual but none the less gruesome) I was sitting on his couch when my eyes fell upon an ad in a magazine he had lying around. In bold red, circus lettering across the glossy page read: STAWBERRY FIELDS MODELING CONTEST. Shivers ran down my spine, there was my destiny: to be a hermaphrodite model.
The Cockroach:
Yeah, so I’m a cock-roach, a prostitute, the lowest of the low, but I’ve been crawling around here a lot longer then you and I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon. I’d saved enough money doing my job damn well to follow my dreams; traveling behind The Magical Mystery Tour in my beat up, used El Camino.
I remember it was a bright, sweltering day as I drove down the interstate 62. I saw in the distance a grayish blob moving along the shoulder of the highway. As I drew closer I looked out my window and met the eyes of a slug. When I stopped I could see the relief in his eyes. He looked as if a gardener had been chasing him all his life with a salt shaker. I leaned over and opened the passenger door, with a sigh he pulled himself into my car. I turned the air-conditioning up a notch and we drove for quite some time in silence. After some time, I turned to look at him, “So, tell me about yourself.” And after some small talk we launched into an unusually intimate conversation for two strangers. We talked about our families, relationships, fears, and dreams. I guess we were both starved for companionship and I guess there was something about knowing you would probably never see this person again that really lets you open up.
He spoke to me looking out the window, “It’s getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn’t matter much to me. Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to strawberry fields. Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.” It had begun to drizzle slightly as the sun was setting, I felt myself falling...hard.
“I LOVE YOU!” I couldn’t help but scream out loud.
With out batting an eyelash, like he had heard it all before, he said to me, “Baby, you don’t know what you love. You’re in love with my sorrow…besides, there’s something you don’t know about me.”
“Yes?” I coaxed
“ I got…both,” He said glancing at his lap, then at me, then back at his lap again.” This new information only made me more excited because it meant that I could share mine.
“Darling, under all this make-up, clothing, and fabulous bone structure, I’m a man who just wants to be a woman.” And our eyes met without the slightest judgment. He just looked over at me and smiled. I violently pulled over the car over and we made sweet passionate love, love that I’ve never felt before, real love, right there, pulsating beneath me. After a few hours of that nirvana, I lit up a smoke and dropped him off at strawberry fields.
The Slug:
I arrived in Strawberry Fields. I was miserably shot down for the modeling contract by a snail that had obviously had some major work done. I spent a few says binging on heroin but then I got over it.
One night, I was sleeping in the gutter and I heard the terrifying chatter of drunken Nazi squirrels. I stayed very still hoping not to attract them. These red suspender wearing punks had haunted me all my life, it was best just to lay in fetal position protecting you head. But that was the city and I was used to the suburbs. They tied me up and threw me in an acorn shell and took me to their fortress in the treetops.
I stayed unconscious for sometime and when I awoke I was in a cage. I was submitted to various rapes and tortures involving salt. When I was sure I was going to die on the third night, in burst a brigade of rats wearing cheap leather suits and carrying machine guns. They shot up the place and carried my near lifeless body with them down to the sewers where they nursed me back to heath. The Mafia Queen Ratifia initiated me into the gang where I finally felt like I had a purpose in life. But one of the Nazi squirrels that raped me had AIDS and I soon died.