Topic: How to write a good paper fast
July 19, 2019 / By Chalice Question:
I stared at my prized possession, the reason I get up in the morning, the love of my life, the overall reason I live-
My American Express.
Had it since I was ten years old. Now I’m fourteen. It was in a small glass case, waiting for me to pick him up, kiss him, then swipe. The card gave me all that I ever wanted: That blue dress for fifth grade graduation, that diamond bracelet with the gold happy face on it, the blanket with my face on it for my boyfriend Trace, the jewel-lined handbag I got myself for my mom’s birthday!
And I was that close to getting the matching earrings when my card had been swiped so many times it had worn off! That was when I took it to my dad’s workshop. They repaired my card and now it could be swiped even more!
That day in November was the day that my card was going to be out of recovery. (Recovery is the glass case) As soon as my Aunt Carly would sober up, I could go shopping.
It’s dumb how my mom’s sister always walks to our house when she needs to sober up. I’m always stuck “watching” her after school or even before school sometimes. Aunt Carly really needs to stop getting drunk so much; I think it’s the fourth time this month, and it’s just November 16th. She just sits in my kitchen and eats things with ketchup when she’s over, anyway. I don’t know how, but usually ketchup helps her sober up faster.
Carly called my name “Kristin, you need more bread!” Usually, I ignore Carly when she calls my name, or at least that’s what my parents tell me.
My mom always says to pretend that Carly isn’t at the house when she is, because a drunk Carly is not a normal Carly. Mom works with drunk people sometimes in her job, so she knows what not to do when Carly is over.
I know not to answer her calls unless it’s an emergency (which means that it would involve mom, dad, any friends or family, or police and ambulance, hospitals, 911, etc.) I also know to let her answer the door, unless she wants me to, so that I don’t upset her. Mom says that I should stay upstairs and away from Carly when she comes. I also always need to make sure that we have ketchup somewhere in the kitchen.
I heard the sound of the door shut, then I slowly walked down to the kitchen. There was the ketchup everywhere, and pieces of garlic bread scattered, but I ignored it.
It was time. I ran to the trophy room, opened a case, took the glass case and threw it on the floor. The glass shattered, but the card was right there. I kissed it with my red lips, then ran into the storage room, got a slip of paper, and rapidly wrote a letter to my parents for when they were home. It read:
“Hey guys! Carly came over, but left, so now I’m going to North Shore Mall. TTYL!
I kissed the letter so that they would 100% know that I wrote it, folded, and propped it on the kitchen table, right beside the stove, then ran away to my happy place with my absolute best friend/the love of my life:
Mr. A.E. (American Express).
The American Express card I know isn’t a card, he is a magical device that allows me to do (buy) whatever I want. He loves me more than J.C. Penney’s and Nike. He loves me more than credit card heaven, where all cards are used on the most expensive things at the most fabulous boutiques in the most populated cities in the most fashionable states in the most stylish countries in the most wealthy continents in the most wild planets!
It’s American Express Heaven, where all of the good cards go once they can’t be fixed to swipe again. When that happens, you put the card in a black, leather wallet and then buy him in only the richest soil. He then moves on. My daddy gave his Visa a funeral one time when I was eleven. He couldn’t even fix it. He named the card Vanesa. She is in Visa Heaven right now, being spent on belts and rings, my dad says.
The only good thing out of a card dying is that you get a brand new, even shiner card. My dad has one named Mickie now. She isn’t a Visa, she is a Chase Card. Chase Cards are easy to break and damage, though, so that’s why I have an American Express, that, and I love Mr. A.E. He’s just so fun to swipe! He even makes his own sound when swiped. It sounds like a brand new pair of shoes smoothed against waxed floors. He likes being swiped, too, especially on shoes and dresses!
I shouted for the taxi, because Mr. Johnson, the driver, takes I.O.Us. I.O.Us save my life, because taxi cabs don’t (or aren’t) supposed to take them, but Mr. Johnson does. He has a whole box full of pink and blue sticky notes that say:
“Mr. Johnson, thanks for the ride, it was awesome. I.O.U (insert price here) for the ride. You rule! -Kristin”
Mr. Johnson takes them, and asks me when I will pay them, but I say “When I get my allowance.” He understands that I just have a card, and until he gets a card swipe-r he won’t be able to get immediate payments from me. Everybody should get that by now. I only pay by cards.
Mr. Johnson is an older man, about 40 or 50-something. He s
I'm sorry but it cut off. Is it good so far?
It's gonna be a novel about a rich and spoiled girl. She meets this woman from a poverish part of India and then the spoiled girl is haunted by the thoughts of the poor woman and how awful she was treated back in India, so she flies to India and meets a family who is poverish. She helps them through many struggles of poverty and, in the end, learns a lesson about being so materalistic.
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WOW! That is really good! I like the real details you put into writing this. I love to write to and I think if you really like something, keep on doing it. Have you showed anyone the story? If not, you should! I hope this helped! Keep on writing!