Tennis racket? My friend likes to talk about horrible fetishes a lot, one of his favorites being the “hot waffle”. Needless to say, if you go into a man’s bedroom and he has a tennis racket but does not play tennis, RUN.
KEEP THAT RACKET DOWN!
Anonymous
i heard a terrible racket coming from upstairs. what on earth could that be? the worst things crossed my mind in only a few short seconds. all i could think of was the worst. what was that racket that I heard? can someone save me?
Beth
a red racket comes to mind. with a bright bright bright red M in the middle. its hard to read becaus eof the holes. i took it to marthas vineyard in the summer of 2008 and got posion ivy running through the forest to find a ball that bright red racket had hit over the fence….posion ivy….
The baseball racket swung through the air making the slightest swish. The ball flew across the net, narrowly missed by my opponent and the hit the ground. With the sound of a buzzer, I knew I had won. The cheers only became audible once the adrenaline passed out of my system.
Melanie
Two old men were playing tennis at a local country club. In walks two younger women, like, women in their twenties. They were young and beautiful but the old men prefered to go witht the older women because wisdom and personality outsine beauty no matter what. The old men and the old women lived happily ever after, playing rackball at the country club, sipping lemonade, and lauging to gether at the local country club. The moral of the story? Beauty isn’t everything.
Stacy
tennis racket my dad forces me to play tennis, i like it but sometimes i just don’t want to i can’t be bothered to. like i have coach and i don’t like how i have to do it then like sometimes i just want to relax and not havvet
Chloe
tennis heartborken girls beating up their boyfriends cars white skirts and sports bras. preppy. ew. private school prudes. uniform. knee length plaid skirts and collared button down shirts. boys that dontknow what they’re taalking bout.
Clio
there was going to be a racket, no matter what. the inevitable thought just pounded way too hard in my head for me to forget about it. i tried to drown it out by thinking about what i had for breakfast on Tuesday last week. that’s what i do sometimes, to stop thinking about what i don’t want to…distract myself with something impossible, entertaining some small chance that i can muffle that pang of a thought into a slow and faint murmur inside my skull. it usually works for a small while, until that freight train of thought comes right back around to the crossroads, slamming straight into the wall; and it’s back.
Frances Maggio
I had a pink racket once, I would take it everyday by my grandmothers pool. She would watch me try to hit a yellow ball over her 60 foot brown fence. One day, I finally managed to get the ball stuck in a tree. My grandmother wasn’t there.
I wonder where that pink racket went. Ill check my closet later.
Ramona
racket is something that yo use to play games like tennis and racquetball and it is used to hit a ball. is really cool!!!
isabel batista
Tennis, what an interesting sport. Some play it for fun, some play it competitively. Others get forced into playing it without realizing just how difficult it is. It takes more technique to play tennis, than to watch the pretty girls play it.
ebo
There are 16 holes in the racket. Is hole in the racket has something different in it. The hole on the bottom middle has a spider web in it. The hole exactly in the middle has a smear of nutella on it. the hole in the upper left corner of the rim has saliva of a old man on it. The holes all come together as 1 complete hole.
It’s such a racket to use a racket in the badminton courts. Everyone just throwing and walloping and hitting that shuttlecock with their best shot. You can’t hear yourself or your self doubts when you play hard. Sometimes you just have to move forward, move backward, keep moving, keep hitting, keep your eye on the goal, and stop thinking about what you haven’t done, so you’ll win and have fun.
The racket upstairs was maybe the most annoying thing Mike had heard in a long time. There was a family of mongoose living upstairs, and they were always having mongoose friends over, and that made for quite an evening of loud, lewd speak. Mongoose’s were known for that.
Angus Docherty
There was too much noise to truly understand why she was dumping me. Why she couldn’t stay and help me now that I needed her more than ever before. The drilling and excavating of the construction workers kept me from hearing the long list of flaws she just couldn’t live with anymore.
the simplicity of noise
in the background of our everyday lives
cars
planes
loud music
horns
trains
anything and everything
the racket of a modern world, torn away from nature
There was a sudden racket from outside the house. Marissa jumped at the loud and unexpected noise and rushed over to the window to see what it was. She pulled the curtain back and saw a UFO landing on her front lawn.
The racket was blue and battered. Thomasine had used it in college, according to the letter. Bryan’s mother had sent it to him last Friday, but he hadn’t had time to look at it until now. The handle felt odd- it didn’t feel like it fit right in his hand. Not the way a new racket would feel, but like it was old and just accustomed to a hand very different than his.
Emma N
tennis. noise. obnoxious. annoying. tool. not quiet enough.
shelby
It wasn’t the racket of shattering records or tinkling glass that made my ears bleed. It was knowing that what wasn’t said, the cacophony of silence that was dammed up by the phrase “I’m fine” she so often said that had just torn loose in my apartment.
“What,” roared my father, “is the meaning of all this racket?”
He was heaving and wheezing in the doorway, his ample frame squished against the frame, as my sister and I sheepishly looked up from where we kneeled on the floor. I still firmly gripped the baseball bat, while my sister wielded the plastic sword and dagger that our mother had bought for her from the costume store.
“The monster came back,” I tried to explain.
“What monster?” barked my father.
“The big green one.”
Belinda Roddie
“Such a racket!” she cried, flapping her arms like bat wings. The eccentric frenzy combined with her expression, dazed under cobwebby lashes, made her look like something from a secondhand store. Truly a relic of attic trunks and junk drawers, her cotton dress was worn through with one two many summers spent bleaching in the sun and then stewing in the evening dew.
She thought this was supposed to be a coffee house, not a slam jam session – full out screamo band included. Angrily she looked up at her date who was banging his head to the music.
“You lier,” she thought venomously.
He smiled and looked at her. “How else was I supposed to get you to date me?” The words rang clearly in her head.
Today Devin and I went out onto the courts for a game of Tennis. He carried his shiny, new racket over his shoulder, strutting out onto the court, daring others to stop and marvel at its beauty. I followed along behind, glancing around at those player’s who would soon be judging my banal performance.
Elizabeth
Shuffling through boxes in the basement, raising hell and noise like none other, his nephew found the tennis racket. “I didn’t know she could play” he said. “Neither did I”.
“What’s that racket upstairs, Jen?”
“I don’t know. Sounds awful though. I’ll go check” she said as she pounded up the cement steps. I heard her open the door and yell ‘hello!’ really loud. I walked past the staircase into the living room. The second before I sat down on her tan leather couch, I hear a blood churning scream.
It’s something I hold. That channels my power as my legs pump across the court. I grip it tightly, legs bouncing slightly as I wait for the ball to come towards me, then as I see it I draw it back and it feels like an extension of my arm as all my energy is pulled through it.
Maddie
I see a tennis player hitting a ball back and forth, back and forth across a court. This is the game of a lifetime. If he wins this, he becomes a champion. The pressure sets in as the sweat falls from his forehead.
Bloody in my closet, it lay. A brother before, I prayed, not mine. A mother unknowing my crime-did I lay a hand upon my attacker? Did I end the unstoppable torment? But torment or not, a brother before me. I had no right, and he no death to die.
Suddenly I heard a loud noise, a racket from downstairs. I followed the noise slowly until I came upon a large chest. It was old and brass. Scratching noises were comming from inside the chest!
Sammee
Rackets are loud noisy and bothersome. Rackets can be made by almost anything if you bang on it hard enough!
Jane
There was a large bang from the room next door. Ken sat up from his uncomfortable bed and pressed his ear against the cold wall. It sounded like someone falling… maybe someone was hurt. It wasn’t his place to examine someone else’s misfortunes though, he had enough on his plate. He heard the familiar sound of a guard’s voicebox shouting orders from the same room.
there was a lonely racket in a field of daisies. It was beaten and worn and covered in a thick layer of nail polish by the base covering the name once printed on it. It wasn’t often such a thing was found.
Tierra
A noisy noise annoys an oyster. Put that racket where your son doesn’t shine. One more time and to the moon, Alice, to the moon. Beat on the brat with a baseball bat. Ten-x any 1?
i use it to play tennis or badminton..its pretty coool ive been hit on the ehad by it alot…ive broken over 6 rackets in my life, lol and hit some of my friends with it too. ive totally dewired some of the rackets too… haha oh well its good stuff. its also means fighting.
abigail
The racket those kids are making right now is awful. How am I supposed to get a good grade on my final tomorrow if I can’t even hear myself think, let alone study? This is outrageous, it needs to stop now. I cant even constitute reasonably good sentences. This is awful. Look, I just said it again. Little moments of peace would be greatly appreciated.
What is making that terrible racket?! I’m so sick of that wretched noise! It’s sickeningly loud. How on earth am I supposed to concentrate on my paper now?! It’s due in an hour and THIS is what I have to work with?!
Is it just noise or something more? Movement and change. Feelings all overlapping and pushing in and out. Is it always something so messy that you have to stop? It’s in your ears and up your nose all the way into your head.
Tennis racket? My friend likes to talk about horrible fetishes a lot, one of his favorites being the “hot waffle”. Needless to say, if you go into a man’s bedroom and he has a tennis racket but does not play tennis, RUN.
KEEP THAT RACKET DOWN!
i heard a terrible racket coming from upstairs. what on earth could that be? the worst things crossed my mind in only a few short seconds. all i could think of was the worst. what was that racket that I heard? can someone save me?
a red racket comes to mind. with a bright bright bright red M in the middle. its hard to read becaus eof the holes. i took it to marthas vineyard in the summer of 2008 and got posion ivy running through the forest to find a ball that bright red racket had hit over the fence….posion ivy….
The baseball racket swung through the air making the slightest swish. The ball flew across the net, narrowly missed by my opponent and the hit the ground. With the sound of a buzzer, I knew I had won. The cheers only became audible once the adrenaline passed out of my system.
Two old men were playing tennis at a local country club. In walks two younger women, like, women in their twenties. They were young and beautiful but the old men prefered to go witht the older women because wisdom and personality outsine beauty no matter what. The old men and the old women lived happily ever after, playing rackball at the country club, sipping lemonade, and lauging to gether at the local country club. The moral of the story? Beauty isn’t everything.
tennis racket my dad forces me to play tennis, i like it but sometimes i just don’t want to i can’t be bothered to. like i have coach and i don’t like how i have to do it then like sometimes i just want to relax and not havvet
tennis heartborken girls beating up their boyfriends cars white skirts and sports bras. preppy. ew. private school prudes. uniform. knee length plaid skirts and collared button down shirts. boys that dontknow what they’re taalking bout.
there was going to be a racket, no matter what. the inevitable thought just pounded way too hard in my head for me to forget about it. i tried to drown it out by thinking about what i had for breakfast on Tuesday last week. that’s what i do sometimes, to stop thinking about what i don’t want to…distract myself with something impossible, entertaining some small chance that i can muffle that pang of a thought into a slow and faint murmur inside my skull. it usually works for a small while, until that freight train of thought comes right back around to the crossroads, slamming straight into the wall; and it’s back.
I had a pink racket once, I would take it everyday by my grandmothers pool. She would watch me try to hit a yellow ball over her 60 foot brown fence. One day, I finally managed to get the ball stuck in a tree. My grandmother wasn’t there.
I wonder where that pink racket went. Ill check my closet later.
racket is something that yo use to play games like tennis and racquetball and it is used to hit a ball. is really cool!!!
Tennis, what an interesting sport. Some play it for fun, some play it competitively. Others get forced into playing it without realizing just how difficult it is. It takes more technique to play tennis, than to watch the pretty girls play it.
There are 16 holes in the racket. Is hole in the racket has something different in it. The hole on the bottom middle has a spider web in it. The hole exactly in the middle has a smear of nutella on it. the hole in the upper left corner of the rim has saliva of a old man on it. The holes all come together as 1 complete hole.
It’s such a racket to use a racket in the badminton courts. Everyone just throwing and walloping and hitting that shuttlecock with their best shot. You can’t hear yourself or your self doubts when you play hard. Sometimes you just have to move forward, move backward, keep moving, keep hitting, keep your eye on the goal, and stop thinking about what you haven’t done, so you’ll win and have fun.
The racket upstairs was maybe the most annoying thing Mike had heard in a long time. There was a family of mongoose living upstairs, and they were always having mongoose friends over, and that made for quite an evening of loud, lewd speak. Mongoose’s were known for that.
There was too much noise to truly understand why she was dumping me. Why she couldn’t stay and help me now that I needed her more than ever before. The drilling and excavating of the construction workers kept me from hearing the long list of flaws she just couldn’t live with anymore.
the simplicity of noise
in the background of our everyday lives
cars
planes
loud music
horns
trains
anything and everything
the racket of a modern world, torn away from nature
There was a sudden racket from outside the house. Marissa jumped at the loud and unexpected noise and rushed over to the window to see what it was. She pulled the curtain back and saw a UFO landing on her front lawn.
tennis. noise. tool. annoying
The racket was blue and battered. Thomasine had used it in college, according to the letter. Bryan’s mother had sent it to him last Friday, but he hadn’t had time to look at it until now. The handle felt odd- it didn’t feel like it fit right in his hand. Not the way a new racket would feel, but like it was old and just accustomed to a hand very different than his.
tennis. noise. obnoxious. annoying. tool. not quiet enough.
It wasn’t the racket of shattering records or tinkling glass that made my ears bleed. It was knowing that what wasn’t said, the cacophony of silence that was dammed up by the phrase “I’m fine” she so often said that had just torn loose in my apartment.
“What,” roared my father, “is the meaning of all this racket?”
He was heaving and wheezing in the doorway, his ample frame squished against the frame, as my sister and I sheepishly looked up from where we kneeled on the floor. I still firmly gripped the baseball bat, while my sister wielded the plastic sword and dagger that our mother had bought for her from the costume store.
“The monster came back,” I tried to explain.
“What monster?” barked my father.
“The big green one.”
“Such a racket!” she cried, flapping her arms like bat wings. The eccentric frenzy combined with her expression, dazed under cobwebby lashes, made her look like something from a secondhand store. Truly a relic of attic trunks and junk drawers, her cotton dress was worn through with one two many summers spent bleaching in the sun and then stewing in the evening dew.
She thought this was supposed to be a coffee house, not a slam jam session – full out screamo band included. Angrily she looked up at her date who was banging his head to the music.
“You lier,” she thought venomously.
He smiled and looked at her. “How else was I supposed to get you to date me?” The words rang clearly in her head.
Today Devin and I went out onto the courts for a game of Tennis. He carried his shiny, new racket over his shoulder, strutting out onto the court, daring others to stop and marvel at its beauty. I followed along behind, glancing around at those player’s who would soon be judging my banal performance.
Shuffling through boxes in the basement, raising hell and noise like none other, his nephew found the tennis racket. “I didn’t know she could play” he said. “Neither did I”.
“What’s that racket upstairs, Jen?”
“I don’t know. Sounds awful though. I’ll go check” she said as she pounded up the cement steps. I heard her open the door and yell ‘hello!’ really loud. I walked past the staircase into the living room. The second before I sat down on her tan leather couch, I hear a blood churning scream.
It’s something I hold. That channels my power as my legs pump across the court. I grip it tightly, legs bouncing slightly as I wait for the ball to come towards me, then as I see it I draw it back and it feels like an extension of my arm as all my energy is pulled through it.
I see a tennis player hitting a ball back and forth, back and forth across a court. This is the game of a lifetime. If he wins this, he becomes a champion. The pressure sets in as the sweat falls from his forehead.
Bloody in my closet, it lay. A brother before, I prayed, not mine. A mother unknowing my crime-did I lay a hand upon my attacker? Did I end the unstoppable torment? But torment or not, a brother before me. I had no right, and he no death to die.
Suddenly I heard a loud noise, a racket from downstairs. I followed the noise slowly until I came upon a large chest. It was old and brass. Scratching noises were comming from inside the chest!
Rackets are loud noisy and bothersome. Rackets can be made by almost anything if you bang on it hard enough!
There was a large bang from the room next door. Ken sat up from his uncomfortable bed and pressed his ear against the cold wall. It sounded like someone falling… maybe someone was hurt. It wasn’t his place to examine someone else’s misfortunes though, he had enough on his plate. He heard the familiar sound of a guard’s voicebox shouting orders from the same room.
there was a lonely racket in a field of daisies. It was beaten and worn and covered in a thick layer of nail polish by the base covering the name once printed on it. It wasn’t often such a thing was found.
A noisy noise annoys an oyster. Put that racket where your son doesn’t shine. One more time and to the moon, Alice, to the moon. Beat on the brat with a baseball bat. Ten-x any 1?
The tennis racket flew across the court
i use it to play tennis or badminton..its pretty coool ive been hit on the ehad by it alot…ive broken over 6 rackets in my life, lol and hit some of my friends with it too. ive totally dewired some of the rackets too… haha oh well its good stuff. its also means fighting.
The racket those kids are making right now is awful. How am I supposed to get a good grade on my final tomorrow if I can’t even hear myself think, let alone study? This is outrageous, it needs to stop now. I cant even constitute reasonably good sentences. This is awful. Look, I just said it again. Little moments of peace would be greatly appreciated.
What is making that terrible racket?! I’m so sick of that wretched noise! It’s sickeningly loud. How on earth am I supposed to concentrate on my paper now?! It’s due in an hour and THIS is what I have to work with?!
Is it just noise or something more? Movement and change. Feelings all overlapping and pushing in and out. Is it always something so messy that you have to stop? It’s in your ears and up your nose all the way into your head.