I Don't Mean To Brag

I have been to 12 continents, I have swam 12 seas and I have stayed up past 12 am. I can shoot a man with an unloaded gun, I can win Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun, and I can go online without asking my parents for permission. But I don't mean to brag.

At the age of 13, I gave my parents a 9 o’clock bed time, at the age of 7, I bought my 3rd car and at the age of 17, I did an awesome blog assignment. The Rock has to get bigger to play me, Chuck Norris has to make Dirk Puge jokes and my dad has to drive me to school.  When I'm bored, I walk on the Sun, when I'm thirsty, I drink the Ocean and when I'm angry, I slam the door. But I don't mean to brag. I speak Latin in Greenlandic Norse, I squat 750 with a shower rod and  I write prize winning cards to my grandparents. But I don't mean to brag.

The Forbidden City gave me a key, the U.N calls me for advice and the school calls my house when I'm sick. After the Americans kicked the British out, I kicked them out. After the 2004 tsunami happened, I beat up the ocean. After dark, I usually head home. In Britain, I made a royal guard smile, In Middle Earth, I see Sauron, and In your school, I will excel in life.

DIRK PUGE



 

The Exam

 

 

In that moment of cerebral clarity, it occured to me I had lapsed a very crucial part of the exam process. I forgot to study for it. I found it hard to walk those last few steps past those gates which would decide what end of 20% I would be on. The sound of absolute silence distilled this cathedral devoted to language with a sense of eerie compliance and subjugation. As I lowered myself to the closest seat, my legs nearly stopped working. Darting from side to side, my eyes took in this monolithic act of conformity. Children were all placated nicely to simply sit and stare, stonefaced, acutely aware that the slightest shadow of a whisper of a word to a friend may be reprimaded with a instant loss of 20% and, possibly, their University application. The constant change of odour of every person became glaringly present as I tried to focus on the clock. I could almost taste the vile reek of 40 different smeels of 40 different kids as I simply try to complete the incomprehensible task of waiting for a exam I had given no thought of until this very hour. The teacher began to stir. Roaring from the darkness like a bat out of hell, the room seem to explode in anticipation. My eyes could not track all of the jittery movements or anxious glances. Unaffected, the teacher began to mozy about, handing papers this way and that. Finally reaching me, the swell of nervessnous rose to my shoulder, anticipating the disillusioned face of parents as they recieved my marks. Quickly, I snatched the paper from the hand of the teacher. It was for grade 10 science. "Oh sh..." I began, and with a flurry of motion, I was sprinting up flight after flight of stairs, knowing if I had taken the time to study, I would never had had such a grotesque amount of anxiety as to forget to not go to science for a english exam.





Homework Blues

       As I shuffled into the classroom, I knew that Mr. Van Camp would never believe me. I looked at my scuffed shoes and mumbled, " My homework is not done, Sir. I do have a good excuse though."

       " This is not the first time your homework has not been completed. Perhaps," Mr. Van Camp suggested, "it's time to speak with your parents."

       "Please, you have no idea what will happen to me if you phone my home," I moaned. It looked as if he was going to fall for my story.

      "Well, let's hear your excuse. It better be good."




"Well, you see," I began, nervously," I was on my way to school when, out of nowhere, a group of radioactive spider ninja's attacked my writing hand."





Mr Van Camp released an incredulous sigh, " Surely with all the time I've spent to imbue you with a sense of diction, you could've come up with, at the very least, a better way to word such a rediculously preposterous excuse."

With a smirk, I began to regale Van Camp with a tale of epic proportions," 'Twas' a dark and stormy lunch break, and with a sense of vile dread, I trudged through the overflowing, murky waters in the street to obtain a bastion of hope, AKA Tim Hortons. Gallivanting with a prideful step to mask my feeling of impending doom, I began to feel 32 eyes piercing through my flesh to the very core of my soul. They were on me. They only went for my right hand, the disguting abominations and that's wh..."

" Enough! I can not bear to hear more of such a horrible ordeal, you unfortunate boy. Of course you are excused from today's assignment... of course I will have to inspect such a wound caused by , what was it? Radioactive ninja spiders?"

"Oh yes" I stammered, abashed that I hadn't thought that he might wish to view evidence, " I will return in a second , after I have cleaned this truly horrendous spectacle of pus and ... Radioactive spiderness."

" I think that I can handle it. Aha! I've seen many radioactive spider bites in my life and this, my good sir, is not one! It is only red marker drawn in strange non asymetrical ovals."




I retorted instantly, " These are the bites of the Ovalus Fangicus Radioactivus Arachnus ninja clan, not your simple, ordinary radioactive spider ninja markings. They must have oval fangs so as to unleash a plethora of toxins into one's blood stream, namely in the veins of their right hands."




" I have heard of such a thing in tomes of ancient times beyond this world and the next. I believe such bravery in the face of horrendous adversaries merits an A for effort, and for being so incredible and exciting, you automatically get 100% on all of your future assignments. " Mr Van Camp said, entirely convinced of my tale, wrought with deceit and villainy.

All Lies Come To Light

 

The short story, " Bluffing" by author Gail Helgason, is about a bear attack that happened to a neglectful, irresponsible and egotistical man named Liam and his girlfriend Gabriella. Exploring someones ability to bend and distrort the truth is interesting to me, as you eventually see their reason behind deception. Such is the topic of this blog post. Is Liam lying to his fiancee about making " the bear... come after [him] instead of her] ? Or is he simply lying to try and recover from the fact that she had been right in telling him not to run, which he had entirely ignored? Well if one takes a look at what they know of Liam, they can make the assumption of whether or not he is a good , honest person. Liam is a controlling, insistent person, as he insists that Gabriella " [make] homemade cleaning solution" instead of using an easier store brand. He is also inconsiderate, as Gabriella [ had to run... [ to keep up with] Liam's pace". There is also the Grand Finale of Liam's awful personality trio, which shows that he has absolutely no problem lying to get his own way. Having expressed a desire to have " have the lake all to [themselves]", Liam, with Gabriella, comes across 2 hikers heading to the lake as well. Liam almost instantly tells them that they had "came across an elk carcass by the lake[, which] some grizzly had [ as] a dandy breakfast." despite never having seen either an elk corpse or a grizzly. This goes to show that he already finds lying quite easy and that he doesn't have any problems with it. It is more likely that having seen the grizzly by Gabriella, he thought that the bear would be more interested in the closer victim and that he could make a very fast escape. When he woke in his hospital bed, He immediately tries to place himself as the hero by saying that he " wasn't trying to run away up" in the woods. Question is: Does Gabriella believe that as little as everyone else?

The Living Tree

There once was a town. In this place, there was a moving, living tree that terrified and disturbed all the children. The living tree, of course, was the name given to the ancient, bark skinned, and make up wearing old lady. Her name was probably Phyllis or Lucile. Smoking like a chimney, she left an ooze and odor the like of gasoline and a bon fire in her wake. The looming; ominous abode in which she dwelled was reminiscent of the ghost stories of our youth. Exuding a feeling of dread and horror, this was truly a fortress of evil and not a simple, run-down and colonial style rancher house. Here, The Living Tree spent her nights perusing her books, taking care of her 18 and a half cats and generally being a normal, quiet citizen. But when all in the town were sleeping, then came the cackles, and the booms and bangs, and the dreadful, colored mists that gave strange effects to all who dared enter their long, swirling fingers. One day, as all the people of this place had had enough of her late night experiments or "witchcraft", as they called it, they all converged on this mountain of darkness in an otherwise bright sea of utopian sprawl. Gaining the courage to take that last step, the leader of the lynch rose to the door, softly pushed it open and entered. He was never seen again. Nor was any other resident of this town, for as swiftly as he had entered a fell chanting rose from the living tree atop her mountain of shadow. In this instant, all went silent, and a tremendous tremble came through the ground, sinking the city far underground. Forgotten through the ages, another prosperous was built over this once vibrant graveyard. This town was named Penticton and over the mountain of the living tree, there was built a school. Princess Margaret it was dubbed.