Friends are like the great tall pines, They whisper in the breeze, Thier relationship is tall and strong and they can talk with ease, Inside the years of love are showed by each and all the lines, Deep in the heart of the evergreen they show happiness that is mine!
Done by Sarah
A wee bit of luck/ Die rich
(I did not write this part. It is a story starter...and too lame to be my writing)
‘Twas a magical sort of day on the bonny shores of Ireland, and Shawn O’Shea felt delighted to ride his bike along the beautiful country road. A golden sun peeped out between the trees that shaded one side of the road, and the lake on the other side glistened with reflections of emerald green trees, grass, and clover.
Shawn huffed and puffed as he slowly pedaled up a steep hill. “Boy, that was some hill,” he muttered to himself. “But now I'm almost there!” A few minutes later, Shawn leaned his bike against a tree and sat down in his favorite spot. He baited his hook to do a bit of fishing. Then he sat down on a tuft of grass
and clamped his fishing pole between his knees. As he waited for a fish to bite, his
eyes were drawn to a patch of clover at his feet.
“Three leaves, three leaves, three . . .” He noted absentmindedly. “Hey, I found a four leaf clover!” Shawn exclaimed. “This is my lucky day.”
He laid on his back and held the clover up against a canvas of the clear blue
sky. What might he use this lucky clover to wish for? A breeze whispered through
the nearby trees, a bird chirped far away across the lake, and within minutes Shawn
was fast asleep.
The twitching of his fishing pole woke Shawn up. “I've got something!” he
cried. He quickly reeled in the line. It was the prettiest fish he'd ever seen! It had
gold fins, green eyes, a pink mouth, and a black band around its middle.
“Wow, you're beautiful.” Shawn said to the fish. “Its almost a shame to take you out of the water.”
No sooner had Shawn said those words than the fish disappeared.
Shawn heard a tinkling musical sound behind him. He turned, and there
stood a little man only two feet tall. He wore a green coat with a black belt, black
pants, gold stockings, and gold shoes on his tiny feet. His ears were pointed and his
grin so large it spread from ear to ear.
“Who are you?” asked Shawn.
“Why, bless me stars, boy, ha’n’t you ever seen a leprechaun? Fabulous fun
loving Finnegan’s my name. Who are you?”
“Boy, oh boy, it is my lucky day! Maybe you'll lead me to your pot of gold!” blurted Shawn, forgetting to offer his name.
“Its my lucky day, too,” repeated the leprechaun. “I just love to play tricks on little boys. Tee hee hee, you cant catch me!” And with that, the little man disappeared.
Shawn thought he was gone for good. Then he heard a tinkle and a crash that sounded like cymbals. Finnegan had tripped over his bicycle. Quick as a flash,
Shawn grabbed the leprechaun by the foot, but only for a moment. With another
tinkle, Finnegan was gone, and Shawn was left holding just a little gold shoe.
“Oh, please,” called Finnegan from up on a tree branch, “give me my shoe
and I’ll be your friend.”
Shawn looked up at Finnegan. Then he looked down at the shoe. It looked
like it was made of real gold. Suddenly Shawn got a wonderful idea...
(I wrote this part - below)
DIE RICH. .
(continuation to “A wee bit of luck”)
By B.J. Pass
Suddenly Shawn got a wonderful idea. A horrible idea. A wonderfully horrible idea.
“I want to know where your gold is.” Shawn said to Finnegan.
“Oh ho! A gweedy lad 'tis you. One of these days that gweedyness will get you into twubble.” And with that the leprechaun shot out static electricity. The next thing Shawn realized was that he was flying through the air in some kind of pot. Then Shawn couldn't tell, but he thought he heard Finnegan’s voice. It cut through the silence like a chainsaw.
“Dat gold’ll get you into twubble.” Gold? What gold? Then Shawn looked down to the bottom of the pot. There was something in the pot as bright as ...well that place down under. It was so bright that Shawn had to squint.
It all happened so fast. Shawn was falling ...falling ...CRASHING. The force of the crash was so hard that the pot blew up.
Shawn finally figured out what was so bright in the demolished pot. GOLD!!!!!!!!! Piles and piles of gold leaking into the street. Hey, what street. Ireland only had dirt roads. He saw a sign, but couldn’t make anything out of it, “B-blue Pork Pity? Now what kind of town is called Blue Pork Pity?” A weird kind of yellow machine, -unknown to Shawn, drove down the road, barely missing him.
“Watch it bub! Get outta da road!” The cab driver hollered.
“Maybe I’d better move,” Shawn said hopping onto one of the many sidewalks. A split second later, a Mack truck came flying at high speed right where Shawn had been standing. Shawn heard a low pitched humming noise up above. He looked up. And up. And up. And ......CRACK!
“Blue Blazes that's the highest little house I ever saw!” Shawn said rubbing his neck. He had seen one of the many sky scrapers of New York .....I mean Blue Pork. He looked for his house, but saw the famous Macey’s department store instead.
“Lacees - something whatever. These people must be.....” he pointed his left finger at the store, then used his right to do a circular motion near his ear “Mental.” He walked towards the store, dragging his demolished pot-o-gold beside him.
When he got near the swinging door, he had no idea what would happen. Then whoo-aaah! He was so surprised that he fell onto the floor.
The crowd stopped making noise. Everyone had hushed up. Shawn got up. He was so surprised to see all those people that he ran from the store out into the busy streets consisting of exhaust, taxis, and newspaper venders.
Behind him, Shawn could hear people running after him for no apparent reason. The mob turned the corner as Shawn dived into a trash pile in a dingy alley.
When Shawn stepped out of the alley, he looked around fearing that the mob would come back to the alley.
When Shawn looked around, he was so startled by the mess, that he tripped on one of the many pieces of rubble that were dislodged.
It appeared to Shawn that the mob had rioted in the down town streets of Manhattan.
When Shawn recovered from his fall. He picked himself up and peeked around the corner. His breath caught into his throat. Manhattan didn’t look the same. The mob had wrecked havoc on the town. Cars were torn apart, on their roofs, or in flames.
Shawn saw a truck that wasn't totally annihilated. He had seen things like this in Ireland, except it was pulled by horses and didn't have those funny gadgets on it. Shawn saw a key in the ignition. He turned it . And turned it. And turned it, And ...suddenly the truck blew up. Shawn flew in the air like you might see on one of those cartoons. Except this was real. Shawn kept getting higher and higher. Faster and faster. Then he felt a great pain as he felt himself going through something hard.
When Shawn finally came to, he stood up , and stretched his arms and legs. Craaack! one of his joints creaked loudly.
A head peeked around the corner of the wall. Then another. A couple more. Suddenly there was a lot of yelling and shouting. THE MOB WAS ON THE PLANE!!!!!!!!!!! Shawn was kicking and screaming as the mob enveloped over him. Shawn unbelievably scrambled out of the mob’s angry grasp. What did they want with him. And how did they get on the plane he wondered? And pondered. And wondered and pondered some more. The mob’s angry cries broke though his cries. The feeling of horror, of anguish, Shawn was so busy watching the mob he didn’t look where he was going.
Too late.
Shawn ran into the copilots room. He ran right into the pilot. The pilot (though it wasn’t his fault) fell onto the switch. Not the one that made the plane go up. Not the one that made the plane go left or right. Not the one that made him go forward or backward, but STRAIGHT DOWN!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
“Cut! That's a wrap.” The director said. “You were great people.”
Charlie Davis pulled the cardboard off him. “I gotta call my mom and thank her for this movie bidness.” Then Charlie gets up. Takes his beeper out of his pockets and points it toward his 77’ Corvette Stingray. Beep.
THE END
No, that wasn’t the end. Well the end of that Charlie Davis. That Charlie Davis got killed. They kept the beeper part out. I have proof. Look what happens. BOOOOM!!!
“Cut!” says the REAL director in the REAL movie. The REAL Charlie Davis got out from underneath the REAL cardboard. Um, I am not sure about the beeper. Lets fine out. Beep!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!
“I am okay,” Charlie Davis said. Even though it was just a movie, it was enough to end his career.
Done by Normlkidz
S prinklers spraying
U nder the sun
M errily playing
M uch, much fun
E veryone saying,
R un, run, run!