Well, I just have to say I haven’t been following the predetermined routine that I set out for myself. I haven’t followed it at all. I haven’t written anything worth while in a while. Just the assignments in writing class. I didn’t even add onto that assignment that Lisa gave me. I left it at three paragraphs, and three paragraphs is what it is. I will get to it later this week. I will finish it this weekend. I promise.

Now, like I told you all before, I am posting my assignments from creative writing class. I have two to share tonight. One is an actual assignment; the other is a writing exercise in class.

The assignment is to write about a childhood misfit or a town misfit. Of course I didn’t do my homework until the last minute before I left work to go to class. I whipped it out in ten minutes. I gave it to a friend to critique and his biggest complaint is that I do not write in complete sentences..and I don’t. I write mostly in fragments. It helps me with the meter, it helps with the flow of the piece..in my humble opinion. I’m not worried about it being written correctly, I just want it to read fine, and I guess that sort of works into it. Well anyway, without further delay, my assignment.

There he is, the sore of my eyes, the terror of the town. All run from him screaming in fear; kids, grownups and most of all, grannies.

Smiley Two-teeth. Not because he smiles a lot and has two teeth, no. But because it sounded good to him. Just hearing the name puts the fear of God in us all. His real name is Davey Huckleberry, a name that put fear in its owner, hence the name change.

He’s a force to be reckoned with, all three feet five of him. Don’t let his small stature fool you. His little man complex makes him a giant. His angelic countenance is broken by a wretched scar from a freak shaving accident at age eight. This makes him look like the terror that he is.

To us grownups or people of height, no shins are safe. No dogs are fierce enough either. His speedy little feet will chase you down and there will be hell to pay for running away from him.

His cackle after he chases you down will make you break down and cry, curled up in a corner calling for your mother, no matter what age you are.

One man stood up to him, a hero and a giant in our eyes. He stood seven foot eight, weighed well over three hundred pounds. It was a battle of biblical proportions, a modern day David and Goliath. After the battle was done, the giant stood two feet seven; a tiny withering, puny, pathetic little ball of a man, if you could call him that.

After that historic day, no man dared stand up to this little giant. No man has, and no man ever will.

He thought I should make it grand, go into more details about the fight, add more background. Again, I would have done that if I didn’t rush into this assignment and that I only did it in ten minutes. I really didn’t know where I was going with it. So if it seems lacking, I have myself to blame.

Now onto my class exercise. It is to write about my first crush. It was actually a fun exercise, and hearing what others wrote was great also. For the most part, it was funny, listening to others little secret lives and love affairs.

She stood six feet four inches as far as I was concerned, but I’m sure she was only three foot one but no more than three foot one and a half. I was seven, I didn’t know what my height was way back then and I didn’t care. All I cared about was her. She had large brown eyes, an engaging smile, and shiny long brown hair. She was my Repunzel. Tina was her name, or was it Nina, or Gina, no, maybe I think it was Kristy; I don’t remember. What I do remember was that she was a feisty one. Her slim petite figure, as if children can have another type of figure, charges through the playground as we play tag. The boys would chase the girls, slapping them on their butts to steal a grope. At age seven too, how corrupted us boys were. Instead of sitting on the ground like the other girls, Tina or Nina or Daphne or whatever her name was would chase us back and steal a grope herself with her fist or knee or feet to our soft fleshy areas like our stomach, face, or her personal favorite, our groin. After regaining consciousness, I realized she wasn’t the one for me. I moved on, as I should. She was Kristina or Tristina or Trista or maybe Michelle. I don’t remember, but she sure was a feisty one.

I just have to say that both of my writings tonight got laughs out of everyone, and that’s all that I wanted.

I have to say, I am liking writing more and more. I am genuinely surprised that I am. I find it funny for the longest time I really hate writing. It’s a chore. I totally detest writing. Going through my journal the other night, I just realize how much I write. Maybe because I actually enjoy the things I’m writing, and I’m actually having fun writing most of the stuff. If you read these past two assignments and the last one about the sheep, they were fun reads. I never written anything fun before, mostly dark and depressing cause it is my mood at that time. I guess I’ve really changed. Funny.