(no subject)
So today we read Robinson Crusoe in English class, and instead of doing the normal homework, I asked my teacher if I could do something rather creative and rewrite the story. Apparently he agreed, so here's my story: I appreciate your feedback, and if there are grammatical mistakes please tell me where they are...
Good times with Frie-Day
Call me Rob. I was born in London, England long ago and I want to tell you a story no one could possibly have made up, because it is too complex for the simple-minded human beings to invent something that lies even beyond their fantasy’s fantasy.
Someday I found myself totally inert to move at all, lying on the beach of an island. I do not know for how long I lay there, but to me it seemed like a lifetime, too exhausted I was. Wearing nothing, except for the remainders of my trousers now covering my genitals I was found by three women, with brown skin colour, huge bosoms covered by tiny leafs, wearing short skirts that had probably been made of bamboo. They carried me to their tribe, where 50-60 people were sitting down and clapping in a circle and seven young chaps seemed to be performing some ritual dance in the very middle. When I caught a glimpse of a stake in my comatose state of being, I could tell this was not good news. I was confused. Minutes later I found myself on the stake. The sun had already begun to set. The leader of the tribe, looking like some wise medicine man, babbled something in a language that I did not understand. Over and over he repeated the words “Nagd merst trekst.” The people left and I fell asleep again. I woke up the following morning, pushed against the stake by an enormously strong storm raging like it wanted to destroy the whole island. That was when the tribe’s leader suddenly shook off the chains that had been pushing me against the stake so hard that now all my bones and veins were aching. The leader called on me to follow him with an inviting gesture. After a fifteen minute long hike through the woods we came to a huge camp site where we entered the biggest tent of all. The leader smoked a crack pipe with me and for the next few months I did nothing but sleep in the bedroom given to me and listen to the people when I did my walks around the campsite. I was served potatoes thrice a day and step by step acquired the language of the people living there. Someday, when I was sure of myself being able to speak their language I went to the leader of the tribe in order to talk to him about everything that had happened. Why did they have to put me on the stake? “My son”, he said, “we had to test if the Gods wanted you to stay here or starve to death”. If the first happened to be their choice they should send wind. “Nagd merst trekst ” meant “Wind shall come.” I found out that in their language wind, air and storm were described by the same word. The word for it was “Nagd.” “Nagd merkest”, or “and wind/air/storm came” he added, smiling at me. I wanted to write these words down on paper and wound up choosing air as the translation for Nagd. “Air came”. Although this may sound stupid to you, dear reader, this sentence basically represents me being saved by the chance of nature. This is why it had such an impact on me. I looked at it closer: “Air came”. I do not know how I happened to rearrange the letters, but after doing so thrice my solution somehow totally satisfied me. “America”- This was how I should refer to this land ( because I had not found the west end of the island yet) if I should ever get home again, I thought. I looked up at the tribe’s leader again and told him I was so happy that tonight I wanted to be the one cooking the potatoes. And not just like everyone else cooks them, no, I wanted to prepare them in a special way. I took one of their overly sharp knives and cut the potatoes in long thin pieces while putting quite a bit salt on them before roasting the long, yellow potato-sticks in the fire. Later, at dinner, everyone enjoyed this new sort of potato. The leader of the tribe enthusiastically told me he liked them, “calee” he said. Since I am from London the way he pronounced this word reminded me of “Calais”, France’s most English city geographically. Thus I decided to call those potatoes “French Fries”. I really liked this word, an alliteration plus a personal connection to it. It was the first day ever I was allowed to cook for the indigenous population, had made fries, which had been especially appreciated by the tribe’s leader. I did not know about his name so I decided to call him “Frie-day”. He liked that and we smoked crack pipe that night, which went by too fast, since it was the first night of me truly feeling an emotional bond building up between me and Frie-Day . For the following couple of weeks I went out to the beach to hang out there with some of the beautiful young ladies the tribe had to offer. I do not want to get into too many details however, because one day something occurred that should change Frie-Days’ life forever. Three vast ships suddenly arrived on our island. Their commander, a tall, handsome man who probably was in his thirties rowed to the beach with a few other guys in his mini boat, made of best Spanish wood-I was able to tell at first sight. He asked me “Cómo se llama esa insula?” “America”, was my response. More and more his face turned red, he got angry, fiercely looked into my eyes and added “Mierda, quieré a encontrar India!”. His companions pulled arrows out of their pocket and got the island under their control within minutes. He happened to enslave all of my friends from the tribe. I forgot to mention the madman’s name, I think it was something like Columbus. One of his ships sailed back to Spain where they had come from, so I gingerly decided to leave with them. I was home in London six months later where I continued leading a happy life as a writer. I never forgot about the fun I had had with “Frie-day”, by bringing potatoes to Europe(We took a shortcut over China and even passed Marc O’ Polo) and inventing the “French fries” I immortalised him.
Good times with Frie-Day
Call me Rob. I was born in London, England long ago and I want to tell you a story no one could possibly have made up, because it is too complex for the simple-minded human beings to invent something that lies even beyond their fantasy’s fantasy.
Someday I found myself totally inert to move at all, lying on the beach of an island. I do not know for how long I lay there, but to me it seemed like a lifetime, too exhausted I was. Wearing nothing, except for the remainders of my trousers now covering my genitals I was found by three women, with brown skin colour, huge bosoms covered by tiny leafs, wearing short skirts that had probably been made of bamboo. They carried me to their tribe, where 50-60 people were sitting down and clapping in a circle and seven young chaps seemed to be performing some ritual dance in the very middle. When I caught a glimpse of a stake in my comatose state of being, I could tell this was not good news. I was confused. Minutes later I found myself on the stake. The sun had already begun to set. The leader of the tribe, looking like some wise medicine man, babbled something in a language that I did not understand. Over and over he repeated the words “Nagd merst trekst.” The people left and I fell asleep again. I woke up the following morning, pushed against the stake by an enormously strong storm raging like it wanted to destroy the whole island. That was when the tribe’s leader suddenly shook off the chains that had been pushing me against the stake so hard that now all my bones and veins were aching. The leader called on me to follow him with an inviting gesture. After a fifteen minute long hike through the woods we came to a huge camp site where we entered the biggest tent of all. The leader smoked a crack pipe with me and for the next few months I did nothing but sleep in the bedroom given to me and listen to the people when I did my walks around the campsite. I was served potatoes thrice a day and step by step acquired the language of the people living there. Someday, when I was sure of myself being able to speak their language I went to the leader of the tribe in order to talk to him about everything that had happened. Why did they have to put me on the stake? “My son”, he said, “we had to test if the Gods wanted you to stay here or starve to death”. If the first happened to be their choice they should send wind. “Nagd merst trekst ” meant “Wind shall come.” I found out that in their language wind, air and storm were described by the same word. The word for it was “Nagd.” “Nagd merkest”, or “and wind/air/storm came” he added, smiling at me. I wanted to write these words down on paper and wound up choosing air as the translation for Nagd. “Air came”. Although this may sound stupid to you, dear reader, this sentence basically represents me being saved by the chance of nature. This is why it had such an impact on me. I looked at it closer: “Air came”. I do not know how I happened to rearrange the letters, but after doing so thrice my solution somehow totally satisfied me. “America”- This was how I should refer to this land ( because I had not found the west end of the island yet) if I should ever get home again, I thought. I looked up at the tribe’s leader again and told him I was so happy that tonight I wanted to be the one cooking the potatoes. And not just like everyone else cooks them, no, I wanted to prepare them in a special way. I took one of their overly sharp knives and cut the potatoes in long thin pieces while putting quite a bit salt on them before roasting the long, yellow potato-sticks in the fire. Later, at dinner, everyone enjoyed this new sort of potato. The leader of the tribe enthusiastically told me he liked them, “calee” he said. Since I am from London the way he pronounced this word reminded me of “Calais”, France’s most English city geographically. Thus I decided to call those potatoes “French Fries”. I really liked this word, an alliteration plus a personal connection to it. It was the first day ever I was allowed to cook for the indigenous population, had made fries, which had been especially appreciated by the tribe’s leader. I did not know about his name so I decided to call him “Frie-day”. He liked that and we smoked crack pipe that night, which went by too fast, since it was the first night of me truly feeling an emotional bond building up between me and Frie-Day . For the following couple of weeks I went out to the beach to hang out there with some of the beautiful young ladies the tribe had to offer. I do not want to get into too many details however, because one day something occurred that should change Frie-Days’ life forever. Three vast ships suddenly arrived on our island. Their commander, a tall, handsome man who probably was in his thirties rowed to the beach with a few other guys in his mini boat, made of best Spanish wood-I was able to tell at first sight. He asked me “Cómo se llama esa insula?” “America”, was my response. More and more his face turned red, he got angry, fiercely looked into my eyes and added “Mierda, quieré a encontrar India!”. His companions pulled arrows out of their pocket and got the island under their control within minutes. He happened to enslave all of my friends from the tribe. I forgot to mention the madman’s name, I think it was something like Columbus. One of his ships sailed back to Spain where they had come from, so I gingerly decided to leave with them. I was home in London six months later where I continued leading a happy life as a writer. I never forgot about the fun I had had with “Frie-day”, by bringing potatoes to Europe(We took a shortcut over China and even passed Marc O’ Polo) and inventing the “French fries” I immortalised him.