“Pretty Mouth and Green My Eyes,” a short work from J. D. Salinger’s Nine Stories, provides a look into the lives of a struggling couple through the eyes of a disgruntled husband. Arthur, Joanie’s drunk and desperate spouse, calls Lee, his old friend, in search of marital advice. As Arthur describes his struggles with his wife, Lee interacts with a mysterious woman. I believe this woman to be Joanie. When Lee’s phone rings, he answers and glances “briefly left, at the girl” laying beside him in
forest gathering some last-minute food to pack in my cave, when I heard the loud noises. All of the birds stopped singing and flew away and the tiny squirrels scurried up the trees, chattering obnoxiously. The sky seemed to turn dark, and the loud noises deafened my ears. I whirled around, terrified, I’m a pretty big guy, hello I’m a bear, but these noises sounded larger than even I am. I could hear human men yelling, growing closer. I bounded off toward my cave, forgetting about the last-minute food run
on my pale face as I scramble across the scorching, burning sand. I put up a colorful umbrella and lay out my favorite beach chair. Sweat trickles down from my hairline to my neck, making me feel sticky with a slight cool sensation. I sit down, stretch out my legs, and dig in my feet until they reach cold, damp sand. The salty, humid air fills my nose as I stare out into the distance. I listen to the seagulls above me and the large, dark blue waves crashing on the seashore in front of me. My eyes
One of the most unique creatures are fish. As I am sitting here in my room, my fish are swimming about with not a care in the world. I wonder what it would feel like to be a fish. I'm swimming about and see eight other fish swim around me. The thermometer reads 72 degree Fahrenheit, but the cold water suits me just fine. There are white, black, and gray pebbles all over the bottom of the tank which collects the deserted food particles. I accidentally suck up a small pebble with the fish food I
handsome, lazy, care-for-nothing fellow, of about seven and twenty,” while that of George Talboys consists, for the most part, of: “He was a young man of about five-and-twenty, with a dark face, bronzed by exposure to the sun; he had handsome brown eyes, with a feminine smile in them, that sparkled through his black lashes, and a bushy beard and moustache that covered the whole of the lower part of his face. He was tall, and powerfully built; he wore a loose grey suit, and a felt hat, thrown carelessly
Everyone always says first kisses are awkward. If someone were to ask my 14-year-old self; I wouldn’t believe him or her. See at this time in my life, I was watching movies like 10 Things I Hate About You and Miley Cyrus’ Last Song to depict my perception of teenage romance as perfect. All my best friends have already had relationships, but I had no experience with boys; I haven’t even had a boyfriend yet. So, most of the time I thought there was a physical aspect wrong with me; I thought I was ugly
screeching sound of the utensils was scraping against the plate and the sound of the food in her mouth going squish, squish made me want to walk out of the restaurant. I didn’t allow my temper to get the best of me so I retained myself in my seat and sat there patiently for her to finish. Her name is Christine Amoco and she is my best friend. She’s tall, slender, pretty and has brunette hair. Although she is my best friend she irritates me with her poor table manners. Every time we go out to a restaurant
into the morning air. I look down anxiously, my golf ball is a yard behind me. "Ugh, let's go back to the cart and get my seven iron," I tell my friend. Eye on the ball, practice swing, practice swing, follow through, ball on the green- these thoughts weave their way through my subconscious. I get my stance right and swing, ball shanks way left into the pond. I take a breath, oh well. I still have a few balls I found earlier this morning while mowing my lawn, I live on hole two of the golf course
the rest of my life. At the ripe age of seventeen, I, Sirius Juinez, have been recruited as a ship member of Mother, the largest space station in the United Milky Way. Only the best are chosen, and despite most of my skill coming from helping my dad fix cars, I am apparently one of them. I lived with my parents and siblings in an old house back in Arizona. The town was small, and not much of a tourist trap, so when I wasn’t ‘enjoying’ the dusty desert atmosphere with the only other kid my age I was
night owl. I hated waking up at the crack of dawn I instead would stay up into the wee hours of the night. Laying out on my balcony gazing up at the stars was my favorite thing to do. But tonight, I couldn’t stop replaying last nights events in my head. I was watching Jurassic World in the basement of my childhood home. The wallpaper was outdated with its floral print and the green carpet had one two many stains. But I didn’t care it was home and nothing was going to change that. Just as Chris Pratts
through the day. None of us are actually family, but our parents get along pretty well. In some hours we’ll be boarding a plane to Dallas. After it, a couple hours later, we'll go into another plane to Orlando. But this is the deal. I really dont know what to wear! Since it's winter I think I’ll better wear something red. Besides the fact I love to wear red, it really brighten’s up my milky-white skin, along with my hazel green eyes, and light brown-golden hair. It's not always golden, just when it's
In The Bluest Eye, by Toni Morrison, Pecola, a young girl, is driven into madness because of “the effects of the beauty standards of the dominate culture on the self-image of the African female adolescent” (Mbalia 153). Pecola goes unseen in her community not only by her peers but by her mother and father of. Not just one race or one social class that isolates and neglects Pecola either. Pecola’s descent into madness results from isolation and lack of love due to the people’s acceptance of the
morning, I could hear my two little brothers’ feet, thundering against the hardwood floors, sounding like a herd of elephants. I sat up in bed, my arms stretching above me, and a lightbulb went off. Today was the first day of 8th grade! In one sweeping motion, I threw the covers off of me and practically leaped out of bed. I headed towards my desk where my clothes that I had laid out the night before were waiting for me. My favorite white USA shirt was waiting for me as well as my favorite blue jeans
Everyone can pant a pretty picture of how wonderful their life may be. In fact, doing so may come with a consequences. Reading these three short stories “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson, “Shooting an Elephant” by George Orwell and a short biography by Malcolm X called “My First Conk”, set off many different emotions. I felt as these author’s wanted to me to feel in such way. I believe there is a life lesion in every life story someone has to share, no matter how small or big. Jackson pants what
Sophia looked up at Loki, her eyes wide. Braless, a bit cold and still mad at hell, she pushed herself off the bed only to have Loki toss her over his shoulder again, her hair falling all over her face as she was upside down and she was pretty sure her left breast was being smashed against his back. Wiggling she whined. "Loki! God damn it Loki! Put me down." she half whined out. She may be stubborn, reckless and fiery as hell but she was also a mere human being. Sure she could carry her own weight
even a blonde color. It was summertime and the lad was relaxing on a hammock he built with willow tree branches. His mouth spread open slowly and his chest rose as he breathed in a deep, lazy yawn. He stretched his thin arms high above him, and smiled as he felt his muscles tense. He fisted his hands and rubbed them over his eyes to help unglue his lids stuck shut. His eyes received handfuls of dirt and the boy blinked wildly to cleanse them out. “Lysander!” the voice boomed, waking the lad
really. I still had to drive a long way away to reach where the fun actually began. Even in the new darkness I could see the rocky, bronze extension of sand. The green shrubs, although hideous, excited me even further than I already am, thinking about how hideous someone will be once I chop their head off. The yellow streak zoomed past. My heartbeat picked up once I entered the world of the humans. Its not even ordinary humans here. Because, here lays the ones with the broken hearts, destroyed homes
itself down on my burdened shoulders and my mind was always swirling with disasters that would probably never plague me. Yet, when sleep did manage to work it’s way through my frazzled brain, it was welcomed and appreciated. So when the harsh beeping of the alarm clock began to blast, I felt annoyance bubble up in the pit of my stomach as I was brought back into reality. My arm, which felt as heavy as a block of led, tried to reach for the button before I could realize it. I slammed my fingers down
forehead and then see a pair of brown eyes staring at me. Shoot! Lisa's brown eyes are not colored with the rage I expected, they are laden with understanding. Dani is still gripping me and I am not strong enough to pry her off of me mostly because every part of my body hurts. Lisa rips Dani's lanky frame from me getting a grumble of intelligible words from Dani. I get up in immense pain again, but luckily not as bad as in my dream. I straighten up feeling that my right leg is stiff as a board and
thy pipe, thy happy pipe, Sing thy songs of happy chear: So I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read - So he vanish’d from my sight And I pluck’d a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen And I stain’d the water clear And I wrote my happy songs, Every child may joy to hear. The Shepherd How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot! From the morn to the evening he strays; He shall follow his sheep all the day And his tongue shall be