parkuspanda
It had a small crack in the side of it.
We didn't think it was that big of a deal, so we ignored it.
Later that week, the pillar basically shattered, and the left side of the building collapsed, killing seven people and a dog.
... Oops.
200 pounds...
200 pounds of string used to make this... this thing. I don't even know what it is. But it looks cool. It kind of looks like... String. One really big piece of string.
What a waste.
It was my turn to be "it."
I leaned up against a tree.
1... 2... 3... ... 50!
I turned around, moving at full speed, not expecting anything to be in my path.
I uh... collided with another tree.
I never did find anyone that day.
It was dark.
So dark in fact, that I couldn't even find my lantern to light up the night.
I stepped outside, dragging the trashcan behind me. When I got to the curb, I noticed ,some 200 feet away, a small group of kids sliding wildly around on the ground.
How in the world were they doing that?
Three words: Really big kites.
I stepped outside, dragging the trashcan behind me. When I got to the curb, I noticed ,some 200 feet away, a small group of kids sliding wildly around on the ground.
How in the world are they doing that?
Three words: Really big kites.
He skipped along the sidewalk, his bright, orange balloon bouncing up and down behind him.
As he neared the corner of the street, a bird flew in from the side and took the balloon away.
The boy stopped, looked in the bird's general direction, and smiled.
He opened his mouth and out emerged a large, green balloon from the back of his throat, the string already attached, fit to be paraded about the neighborhood.
Each morning is more or less the same for me. I wake up, go to the kitchen, eat breakfast, go back to the bedroom, hide under the bed, and then attack my master’s feet while he’s getting dressed for work. He then scratches my neck and openly threats to take me back to shelter.
Maybe he’s just not as much of a cat person as my previous owner.
Each morning is more or less the same for me. I wake up, go to the kitchen, eat breakfast, go back to the bedroom, hide under the bed, and then attack my master's feet when he's getting dressed for work. He then scratches my neck and openly threats to take me back to shelter. Maybe he'e just not as much of a cat person as my previous owner.
"I didn't even mean to... He just kind of jumped at me and then it happened," he said.
"Well," she snapped, "the next time you decide to throw your food at Mike, make sure you hit him and not me. 'Kay?"
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writing since 2010 · 24 entries · 20 days shown up
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groundroundfasterfeetstringspunfuzzyblurdifficultstandmorningballoonbehindpotatowordable