Essays and Short Stories |
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What You Don’t Know About Cory SmuthersWhenever I get
a little extra money I usually make a stop at Muldoon’s for a good hot meal.
Muldoon’s is a family owned Irish Pub and Eatery on Rangeline Road in
Carmel, Indiana. Now that I just received a paycheck I decide to stop for a
visit. “You
know it.” The usual for me is the
breaded tenderloin sandwich with fries and O’Doul’s.
I have never ordered anything else.
Our World In a world not much like our own,
a gentle rain comes down on a young boy. The
boy, not older than a few years, is standing on a hill surrounded by green.
The color envelopes him as it covers the hills, trees, and grass.
The smell of spring
overwhelms the boy as he tries to catch the rain in his hands.
He becomes frustrated as it seeps through his interlocked fingers.
Losing interest, he sits down to enjoy the soft feel of rain on his pale
skin. The boy thinks about what his
mother had told him and begins to cry. His
tears melt into the rain drops as they slide down his cheeks.
Earlier, his mother had told him of his father’s death.
Before his father had left, he promised the boy he would be home soon to
take care of him. The boy realized
this would never come true and couldn’t hold back the tears.
His mother also told him that they were going to have to sell the house
to have enough money to survive.
After wallowing in his sadness, the boy began to trek toward the town.
The boy walked into the only toy store and buys a toy gun with the last
of his small allowance. While standing outside the toy store, the boy puts his
mothers stocking over his head. With
the toy gun in hand, he rushes into
a neighboring store, an arts and
crafts store. The owner behind the
counter is facing away from the boy as instructions to produce the money from
the safe are shouted. The owner
slowly grips the small caliber pistol from its drawer in front of him. The boy reminds him that he wants the money quickly and
threatens to shoot. With one swift
motion the store owner turns and fires, piercing the boy through the heart.
The store owner becomes hysterical as he recognizes the robber as a young
boy with a toy gun in hand. Authorities
soon arrive and cart the boy away.
Maybe this world is like our own.
This is a Joke I can t believe I turn five today! I feel that I have grown more mature almost overnight. Sitting on the couch this Saturday afternoon, I wait impatiently to leave for my birthday party. The sun is shining though the front windows onto my body causing a bead of sweat to trickle down my head. It seems to hang on my ear lobe for an eternity. Finally, it falls in slow motion onto my shirt. A small dark spot appears on my shirt where it landed. I glance outside to the bright afternoon of late September. The peculiar thing about September is the way it looks like June, but feels like November. While I wait, I decide to practice tying my shoes. I just learned how last month after a week of demonstration by my father. My mother says its time to go, and I jump from the house into the waiting car. Bruce Springsteen plays on the radio as I imagine opening my presents. I hope someone will give me a dictionary, yet after the party I will most likely be the owner of a huge pile of worthless plastic toys. I walk into the door at McDonald’s and see all of my friends playing on the slides and various other equipment intended to entertain children of my age. As I walk out to the playground, everyone wishes me a happy birthday, except Billy. Billy, why did I invite him anyway? I decide to join in on the fun and ride my favorite slide. Bang! I think I just hit my head on something. My head really hurts so I start crying uncontrollably. It feels as if it’s swelled up three time its normal size. My Grandpa rushes over to me with the speed of an Olympic sprinter. My mother is choking on a chicken nugget. She must be terribly frightened by the severity of my injuries. Her face is turning as blue as a Louisiana harmonica player who just lost his dog. I think she’s dead. My Grandma clutches my mother in her arms. “Nooooo!’ Her cry echoes off the glass walls as she dies, apparently of a heart attack. Oh, no. I can’t believe Grandma is dead too. My Grandpa, still hunched over me, sees Grandma and screams. “I can’t live without my wife!” He’s cutting his wrist with a plastic spork. “No Grandpa! It’s gonna be alright.” He lies down next to his wife and prepares for death. Suddenly I realize all that remains of my family is my dad, my little brother, and me. I can hear the howl of the ambulances outside. It’s about time. My father and I jump into the ambulance with the rest of my family already strapped onto stretchers. We are driving at an incredible rate as the ambulance leaps into the air, thanks to a pothole. The doors fly open and my dad falls out. “My God!” A car just ran over him. I guess it’s just me now. I never did get to open my presents. Whenever I
tell my brother this story, he never believes me.
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This site was last updated 01/12/06