I was still pretty mad about the Berks of Being a Wallflower incident. The name, I must say, is pretty witty though.
But I'm not mad anymore. You smart little readers probably know why, don't you?
You're right. I'm in the library with Katherine.
"So, Katherine, gonna do anything in the Berkeley's Got Talent Show?" I started.
"Probably not. I'll just be in the audience. What about you?" she asked. She wiped her hair from in front of her face.
"Well," I gulped, "Maybe. I'm not sure. I don't have many talents, if any."
"Don't say that. I'm sure there's something you could do." she said with a smile.
"Well, I know a few card tricks." I suggested remembering a while back.
"That's a start."
"But it's a bit small for a talent show where nearly everyone's going to be there."
"Okay, anything else?"
"I know a couple of jokes."
"Alright then, umm...you could do a stand-up routine."
"That sounds good. But are my jokes asgood as your idea?" Suttle compliment on my part.
"I'll be the judge of that. Give me your best shot."
"Alright." I finished. I thought for a moment. I looked at Katherine and thought of a joke that would be more than one, in one.
"You know my friend can't hold jobs? He can't for some reason. I mean, he should be a rocket, because they're always fired as a job. He'd be perfect." Katherine laughed (not loud because we're in a library). I continued with more confidence.
"He was fired from so many factory jobs. He was once fired from the M&M factory. He just had to throw away the W's." I muttered. More laughter. A person from behind the bookshelf behind us also chuckled.
"And once he got fired from the orange juice factory. He was noted he couldn't concentrate." Some more laughter.
"The worst though was the banana factory. I mean, who gets fired for throwing away all the bent ones?!" She laughed really hard on that one. The person behind the bookshelf was as well. I even think the librarian managed a smile.
"That's great, James. You should sign up." Katherine said.
"Yeah." the voice behind the bookshelf chimed in.
"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. We'll see." I replied.
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I was at my desk in my dorm after all my classes. On one side was an English essay I had to write about myself. But it really wasn't an essay, it was more of a narrative. Essays are more on the nonfiction side of the spectrum in my opinion.
On the other side was a bowl of (beef flavored this time) ramen. I've got to say, my meals have been saving me money and pleasing my taste buds.
For some odd reason though, I couldn't figure out a good way to start.
I'm good at writing too. My teachers have praised my way with words. My awesome articulation. My pleasurable phrases.
For some reason, I couldn't get words on the page. I took a piece of paper and began to write:
I was practically walking into oblivion. Straight into it. Like the sunshine on a warm spring March day would do to the bottom of the sea. It would try to reach the bottom, but it never happens. No matter how hard it tries.
I picked up my bowl, drank the rest of my ramen and placed the bowl down. I took my piece of paper and crumpled it into a ball. I shot it like a basketball and made it on the mountainous pile of crumpled up balls of paper that are there about to avalanche. I got up and used my foot to push the mountain into the shape of a small hill. Then, I collapsed on my bed and drifted into a deep slumber.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe It'll Never Happen
Teen FictionJames Ignis has the worst luck in the world. His parents died when he was only four years old and he's been living with his single aunt who has to take 3 jobs to maintain his exsistence. He has been depressed his whole life. He has barely, if any, f...