Kelcher Edwards
Running down stairs as quickly as I can. Bumping into valuable furniture and knocking down family photos. I was only six, what did you expect from a wild child who just had a bag of skittles for breakfast. I screamed and I jumped. I ripped up paper work and drew on the walls. I had no home training. Being the only child at the time I was free, No rules just play time and big bags of candy. I sprinted past my dad who had his arms wide open to either hug or capture me. I dashed past my mom who was sitting at the top of the stairs waiting for me with her arms crossed. I went into my room and jumped as high as I could onto my bed. I laid on my bed tired from all of the ripping and running around. I could hear my dad coming up the stairs. He opened my door with a box in his hand. He hand me the box and walked out the room. I ripped open the box and it was a 1982 Winter Wonderland Barbie. She was still in the box but she was dusty and looked like she need a good hot bath. I wondered why my father would give me something so worthless. At the age of six I really didn't see the value in that barbie. So I shoved the box under my bed and kept on jumping. A few years later had past. I was thirteen and a little bit more mature then I was when I was six. I was cleaning my room and found a box under my bed. It was the same doll that my father had given me when I was six. I knew by now the doll had to be worth some money, so I cleaned barbie up and put her back in the box. I showed my dad the barbie and a big smile went grew across his face. He hugged me and took the doll away to put it in a box with other dolls. He told me the doll was worth at least five hundred dollars at the time. I knew when I grew older it would be more. I am now eighteen and that doll cost one hundred thousand dollars, because it is one of a kind.
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If I were a man eating zombie, I would tell my friends to shoot me if I continued to feed on others. If I were a zombie to the American society I would tell my friends to never stop feeding me until I was successful in life. Being a zombie to American society is also another way of saying your an outcast or your different from the others. I find myself always landing in the outcast category no matter what situation. I find it better for me to stay away from the simple minded people and hang with the zombie crowd, because even though we may be different from everyone else we always seem to have the most brains in the end.
Running down stairs as quickly as I can. Bumping into valuable furniture and knocking down family photos. I was only six, what did you expect from a wild child who just had a bag of skittles for breakfast. I screamed and I jumped. I ripped up paper work and drew on the walls. I had no home training. Being the only child at the time I was free, No rules just play time and big bags of candy. I sprinted past my dad who had his arms wide open to either hug or capture me. I dashed past my mom who was sitting at the top of the stairs waiting for me with her arms crossed. I went into my room and jumped as high as I could onto my bed. I laid on my bed tired from all of the ripping and running around. I could hear my dad coming up the stairs. He opened my door with a box in his hand. He hand me the box and walked out the room. I ripped open the box and it was a 1982 Winter Wonderland Barbie. She was still in the box but she was dusty and looked like she need a good hot bath. I wondered why my father would give me something so worthless. At the age of six I really didn't see the value in that barbie. So I shoved the box under my bed and kept on jumping. A few years later had past. I was thirteen and a little bit more mature then I was when I was six. I was cleaning my room and found a box under my bed. It was the same doll that my father had given me when I was six. I knew by now the doll had to be worth some money, so I cleaned barbie up and put her back in the box. I showed my dad the barbie and a big smile went grew across his face. He hugged me and took the doll away to put it in a box with other dolls. He told me the doll was worth at least five hundred dollars at the time. I knew when I grew older it would be more. I am now eighteen and that doll cost one hundred thousand dollars, because it is one of a kind.
******************
**************************************
If I were a man eating zombie, I would tell my friends to shoot me if I continued to feed on others. If I were a zombie to the American society I would tell my friends to never stop feeding me until I was successful in life. Being a zombie to American society is also another way of saying your an outcast or your different from the others. I find myself always landing in the outcast category no matter what situation. I find it better for me to stay away from the simple minded people and hang with the zombie crowd, because even though we may be different from everyone else we always seem to have the most brains in the end.
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