The Ant Peanut Butter

   A leg jabbed into my side bringing me out of my peaceful slumber. The leg was my Mommom's. I had spent the night at her house with two of my cousins. My stomach growled hungrily.
   My Mommom had always been a light sleeper so she woke up when I tried to get out. I smiled sheepishly.
   "Well, since I'm awake I'll make you some breakfast." she said.
     It turned out that my cousins had already woken up and were snacking on peanut butter and crackers. It looked pretty good so I decided to have some.
   Then I noticed the small black things in the peanut butter. I peered into the peanut butter jar. The orangey-brown color of the peanut butter was speckled with black chunks. I realized they were ants.
  "Um...there are ants in the peanut butter." I hesitantly said.
   My cousins gaped at me. The younger one gagged slightly. The other other one ran to the bathroom. Suddenly, I was thankful that I had woken up last.

The Epic Story of My Many Couches

  The story of my many couches begins before I was born.  My deceased dog, Violet, was still a puppy, and had a habit of chewing anything in sight. At that moment we had a light grayish blue couch.  Violet decided it was a fantastic chew toy, and somehow destroyed the couch that was at least five times her size.
  The next couch came when I was born. It was blue with thin tan stripes. My older brother, Matthew, was being babysat by one of my mommoms. She went to the bathroom for around two minutes. When she came out my brother had made a hole in couch. We still aren't completely sure how he did it.
  We then got an ugly blue couch. It was a hideous cookie monster blue. Nothing actually happened to that one, but it was so awful we just threw it out.
  Our current couch is tan, and fairly puffy. I guess it's okay.  It probably won't last very long. None of the others have. This couch, while I'm convinced it is slowly breaking apart, is probably my favorite so far.

The Worst Movie I Ever Watched

  I've watched a lot of lousy movies. The worst one by far was Sleeping Beauty. I've always respected Disney movies because most of their movies are really good.  Sleeping Beauty is an exception.
  The main character is a weak, dependent female that does nothing but meet the prince, and touch a spindle. On that train of thought have you noticed how absolutely obvious the fact is that a spindle bathed in a eerie green light is going to be dangerous. Sleeping Beauty clearly isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.
  Then there's the prince. Although he had the best intentions it isn't fair that the fairies get no credit for the part they played in Sleeping Beauty's rescue. The prince would still be locked up in Maleficent's castle if not for the fairies.
  So, honestly the movie would have been way more interesting if Maleficent had won, and not died in such a pathetic way. It was a really bad movie. 

Home Free

  I can't help but think that sometimes my average day resembles a certain game we used to play, Home Free. The basic rules were that  the person who was "It" counts to twenty-nine while the other players hide,  while "It" was looking for people the hiding people tried to get to home base without getting tagged. If you got tagged you are "It." If you get to the home base and yell the name of the game you win.
  You may be wondering how exactly some of my days resemble this game. My average day at school starts with checking the clock occasionally, which is the counting.  I try to avoid getting called on, so I fade into the backround as well as I can. That would be the hiding. Then, at the end of the day I speed walk to the bus trying to get to my home without getting in any trouble. My home would be, you guessed it, home base. Although I don't actually call out home free, I think you can see the similarities.
  Not all my days are quite like that, of course. When I'm not in a good mood it usually ends up like this, though.

Cute...But Deadly

  The large unblinking blue eyes stared back at me.  I was vaguely disturbed by the disproportianate features of the creature. I directed my gaze back to the child holding the monstrosity towards me.
  "So, can I have it?" the child asked.
  "Where did that come from? I don't remember putting anything like that in my garage sale." I said to myself.
  The...thing had ridiculously large eyes in a too small face. Its nose resembled mouse's slightly.  The thing had fluffy light purple fur. I was certain I had never owned such a thing.
   "How much is it?" she asked.
   "Whatever you want to pay. I guess I forgot to price it."
   "I'll pay twenty dollars." the little girl offered.
   I reeled back in shock. Why would anyone want such a hideous little toy? Its shrunken little body, and its swollen head repulsed me. I didn't care if it was just a toy. I didn't care if it was supposed to be cute, and apparently was to most people. It was creepy!
   "I don't think that it's worth that much." I said.
   "Oh...okay. I'll pay fifty dollars." the child said almost in desperation.
   "You can take it for free." I offered.
   The child looked at me as if I was crazy. It was just a stupid toy. What was the big deal?
   "Thank you." the girl clutched the ugly thing to her chest.
   The kid ran away as fast as her little legs could carry her and jumped into a large black van. It sped out of sight.
   Around three weeks later I was at home relaxing in front of the television. Suddenly, my show was interupted by an emergency broadcast.
   "Warning! A very dangerous child criminal is on the loose. She can be recognized by the fact that she carries all her weapons in a one-of-a-kind stuffed animal." the new anchor warned.
   I felt a sickening, heavy sense of dread.
   "Here is a picture of her and her stuffed animal." a picture of the girl, and the bizarre stuffed animal I gave her flashed on the T.V.
   Oh no... I was in trouble. What if the police said that I was an accomplice? Well, at least I learned a valuble lesson. Don't judge a book by its cover, or you may regret it.  
  
 

It Knocked Me Breathless

  I was around five years old, in my home. The television was blaring in another room. All my family was in the t.v room, except for me.  I had been reading a book, but it was really bad, so I decided to go see the rest of my family.
  Unfortunately, our dog wasn't allowed in the t.v. room, so there were gates in the doorways. I, for some reason, decided that I would climb over the obviously too tall gate. I struggled up to the top of it, my muscles aching. I sat on the top, ready to climb my way down when the gate loosened. My body slammed straight into the floor. Even though it was carpeted it totally winded me.
  I struggled to breathe. I felt pure unadulterated panic. My body was spasming. My mom and dad tried to calm me down. After a while they succeeded. My breathing came back. Let's just say I never tried to climb on those gates again.

Haunted House

  When I think haunted house I think cheap non-scary carnival haunted house. I've never been in a scary haunted house in my life. It disapoints me. I love to be scared...although it takes a lot to scare me. Whoever makes haunted houses has something to learn.
  One of the first haunted houses I went in was one of those board walk ones. It was really bad. The haunted house had cheesy plastic spiders, unrealistic cobwebs, and the costumes were fake and silly. I didn't scream once.
   The only remotely cool haunted house I've been in was in Disney World, and even then it wasn't actually scary at all. It just had cool effects. It, at least, was worth the money. Haunted houses seldom are. It makes me sad.
 

If I Could Keep Time in a Bottle

  If I could keep time in a bottle the first thing I'd do is bottle some time and give it to people who are about to die.  People who are going to pass away should be able to say goodbye to everyone they love. It's important for people to die with no regrets, so they can use their time-in-a-bottle to sort out anything they regret about their life.
  I could also collect the bottles of time and sell them. They'd be worth a lot.  I'd have to be sure that I'd omly sell one per customer. I don't want people living forever. That's not natural, and I'm pretty sure there is a reason humans don't live forever.
  Honestly, I don't think I'd want to keep time in a bottle. Everyone has a certain amount of time. We should use it properly, and if we do we won't need timme in a bottle.

More Time

  If I could have  time with someone it would probably be with the author of the book Graceling. She is an amazing writer, and her characters have extreme depth. I'd love to learn about writing from her.
  I want to be an author when I get older, so it would be invaluble to learn from someone who actually got a book published. If I want to talk to an author I might as well talk to one that wrote one of my favorite books.
  I understand some people might pick a friend or a member of their family. I feel that you can see them whenever. You can't talk to someone famous or amazing whenever you want to.