Canes | Vacation | The Flying Rhinoceri | My Boring Life | Just Dessert | Metow
English. It was to be a chapter of Cannery Row.
Canes
Mr. Laurence was a sidewalk painter. Actually, he used chalk, not paint. He had an old and worn and tattered top hat that had a faded and torn ribbon encircling and wrapping around it. His hair was a medium gray with white and silver highlights. He wore and loved and lived in an old and musty and wrinkled shirt with a torn collar and a clip-on bow tie. The dirty and brown and patched jacket he wore smelled of mothballs and old detergent. A broken box of Crayola sidewalk chalk was tightly held by his withered old hand. At his waist was a rope, made from the finest and silkiest threads, that held up his tattered pants. He had a pair of fine and stylish and new leather shoes that someone had thrown out.
In his other hand he held a cane with a clamp at the end to hold the chalk, given to him by Mack and the Boys. They made it for him for chalking and painting and framing them a picture for the Palace Flophouse.
Old Mr. Laurence, who wasn’t very old at all, walked and meandered and slunk along to streets of Cannery Row and Monterey pausing and resting only a moment’s time to kick dust from his shoes. He chalked out pictures of faraway and exotic and exciting places like France and India and Japan and other places that no one in Cannery Row would go to and see and travel to.
He chalked out pictures and drawings and shapes of odd and mysterious things too. They seem to symbolize and represent things in his life. His favorite and most beloved drawing that he drew and colored and decorated was a simple hillside and clear sky with a lone tree on the top and a shadowy figure under the tree.
Mr. Laurence disappeared in the end with but one chalk picture left as his memory and legacy in Cannery Row. In front of Lee Chong’s Grocery and on a small cracked piece of pavement and cement is that same simple picture he loved, a hillside and a lone tree. Under the tree, however, are two shadowy figures, and one has a cane.
personifications, onomatopia, and aliteration.
Vacation
On my vacation I went to southern California. My favorite place in Southern California is my grandmothers house. My grandma’s house smells as sweet as apple pie, but as sour as a lemon. It is a smorgousborg of smells. Despite the smells, the house has a peaceful, calm feeling to it. Grandma’s House is cozy, with a settled in look to her. The birds “Chirp, Chirp” in the trees outside. the leaves rustle. The wind whispers. Tantalizing turkey tidbits tease my tastebuds.
The Flying Rhinoceri
It happened on night when the air was chilled over the African plains, and the wind was just a cool breeze. I had fallen asleep to the low hum of my new Sony Television, with its dim lights flickering across my face. Kristen, my roommate, was snoring lightly in the dark corner of the large, spacious, uncluttered room. I woke up abruptly to the sound of Zebra, striped horse-like mammals, running, fleeing, stampeding, from the danger of the lions.
Our large hut was a fair distance from the main-stream of the herd, but they sounded as if they were next door. After a few minutes of listening to the herd run, there was no sound to be hears save one from Kristen’s snoring.
In the silent distance of the blackened plain where the sun was beginning to set, a figure dark with shadows arose. From the silence of the night I knew something was wrong. I grabbed my Canon camera, woke Kristen with a shake, and got ready to leave.
“Oh darn, Kristen, wake up!” I shouted.
“I’m up! I’m up! I’m up!” she said, having been aroused from sleep.
“Hurry,” I replied hastily, “I think something is out there. It’s too quiet.”
“She’s crazy...lunatic...I can’t believe I’m going with her...” she mumbled, but grabbed an apple, keys, flashlight, camera and a jacket anyway.
Later, when we arrived at a large tree, backdropped with a star scattered sky, we saw it. In all the places we’d traveled: Honolulu, Hawaii; Bangkok, China; Belo Horizante, Brazil; and all over Asia; I know we never saw anything so wondrous as this.
Rising from a cloud of dust-elegant, majestic, and charming-using wings like that of a dragon, was a huge, ferocious, white Rhinoceros. Magnificent, wonderful, awe inspiring-these were the words we used to describe it. I thought it was beautiful; contrarily, Kristen thought it was terrifying.
Snapping picture after picture, we--the world renowned photographers, journalists, and speakers--were at a loss for words. As we stood through the open roof our black Jeep gaping at the sight, several more Rhinoceri joined the first. All hovering about ten feet in the air, they simultaneously snorted and turned to fly away.
As they left, a few more of the herd followed their example and flew after them. I found it fascinating; Kristen found it exciting. The Rhinoceri-the beautiful Rhinoceri, with wings of gold and crimson-were just gone. On the other hand, the rest of the herd was still on the ground, and angry looking. We quickly drove away never to see the flying Rhinoceri again.
My Boring Life
Did you know that I have the most boring life? Well, I do. Let me tell you about one normal day.
In the morning after I wake up, I get ready for school. At 6:35 I’m down at the bus stop waiting for that smelly, noisy, junky bus. When I’m at school my schedule is like this:
Period 2: Health (very unhealthy)
Period 3: Pre-Algebra (snooze)
Period 4-6: Block--English, Literature, Geography--(hope it doesn’t hit me on the head)
Period 7: German (Deutsch?)
Just Dessert
She lowered the knife and it grew even brighter. It had been glowing for the past five minutes. There was even singing in the background.
The light was shing off of her eyes. She had straight dark hair and dark eyes. She had on a light blue dress and a white apron that made her look like Alice in Wonderland.
She had decorated the house all day with streamers and balloons for this special occasion and all of the neighbors were there. Everyone had brought a box wrapped with special paper. They had put special trinkets inside.
The woman had just finished singing when she picked up the knife. It was a large knife with a wooden handle. The knife was also a special knife, only to be used on the Occasion. Well, she lowered the knife and it grew even brighter than before. The singing was coming to an end.
She needed total concentration for this. Finally, she cut it in a long line down one side then again on the other. Then she cut it the other way in four strips. Her husband helped her put it on special plates and pass it out. Everyone cheered and ate with special forks off of the special plates. Later that night a little girl went to the woman and said “Thanks for the best birthday party ever mom.” Then she went to sleep.
Metow
A great coyote called Metow lived in the mountains above the village. He was very strong and clever. Every year he would come down out of the mountains to the village and destroy every house and eat all the crops.
One year a brave fox snuck into Metow’s mountain home to kill him. Metow heard the fox coming and prepared to fight. He was like an angry bull. He charged, but the fox was quick and moved out of the way. So Metow decided to shake him out.
He stomped the ground as hard as he could. This shook the earth until it started to brake, creating long thin cracks. With every stomp the cracks got wider and deeper until water sprang up. This made Metow slip and fall into the crevice of the mountain, never to be seen again. That is how we got our river, and why we named it Metow.