Student Publishing Program ::

Sarah C.

Homework Excuse

Why am I having so much trouble finishing this assignment? Well, It’s a long story...

I woke up on sunday morning, the day before the rough draft of my creative writing assignment was due and practically lept out of bed with excitement, determination, and enthusiasm to start this project. But who can really tell how a day will go when it’s just begun?

I got up, stretched, put on my slippers and began to walk downstairs to make breakfast when I realized that I could feel the hardwood floor touching the skin on the bottom of my foot. There was a hole in my slipper!

Now, normally one would just put something else on their feet and deal with the slippers later, but these were my favorite slippers you see. I’d had them for years and they’d worn in perfectly to the exact shape of my feet. They were soft, but not too fluffy, so my feet were not too hot and they were just the right size so that they were snug, but not too tight.

So you can see my dilemma. I couldn’t possibly continue on with my day with the knowledge that my slippers were ripped weighing on my mind constantly. Of course, I went immediately over to my sewing basket. But when I got there I realized that there was absolutely no thread left! I knew I’d just have to get to the store to buy more.

So I got in my car, pulled out of my driveway and headed down my street in the direction of the fabric store. But suddenly something caught my attention in the corner of my eye! There was a bright pink flamingo standing on the side of the road (Well it was really more sitting in that funny way flamingos do with their knees bent backward).

Now I knew I had to finish my errand and get home quickly to finish my very important assignment, which I valued above all of my other homework, but who wouldn’t pull the car over and find out what was going on in a situation like this? Questions flooded my mind and curiosity got the better of me. So I pulled the car over and on closer inspection realized there was a man in a green deckchair with at least a hundred yellow balloons tied to it sitting behind the flamingo.

I hesitantly approached him and introduced myself. The man looked about 30, had short blonde hair, an Australian accent, and called himself Danny Deckchair. I asked him where he came from and why he was here and he responded, like I was the crazy one, “Well I flew here, didn’t I?” I could practically here him thinking “duuh.”

I realized that this man was obviously a little off, so I decided something had to be done. I was absolutely longing to get home to finish my assignment, but I suddenly realized that the poor flamingo couldn’t possibly be safe in the hands of this lunatic. So I proceeded to gently pick up the flamingo. I then buckled it into the passenger seat of my car and headed in the opposite direction for the zoo, where I knew this animal must have belonged.

After a lot of flapping, a little very painful pecking, and an enormous amount of pink feathers flying everywhere, I decided to pull over and take a break. After a few minutes I heard sirens and saw a police car pull up behind me in my rearview mirror. The policeman got out, walked over to my window and asked if he might inquire as to why I was out for a drive with a bird such as this. I told him the truth, how I was doing a good deed, even sacrificing valuable time I could be working on my extremely important English assignment, but he chose not to believe me. He put me in the back of his car and took me to the station for questioning.

The ridiculous people at the station kept accusing me of illegal importation of an exotic animal, or endangering an exotic species or something like that. Blah, blah, blah, blah. Seeing as I had no proof of my innocence, they locked me up for the night.

The conditions in my cell were not desirable, as you can imagine. But all I was worried about was finishing my English project. I called for what seemed like ages and when I finally got the guard’s attention, I explained to him my whole situation and how very important it was that I finish my assignment. I got down on my knees, clutched desperately at the bars of the cell and cried for a pencil and some paper. I begged and pleaded and offered all I had, even the shirt off my back! But alas, it was no use.

When my father finally came to bail me out, it was already 2:30 in the morning! I didn’t get home until 3:30 and as I was getting out of the car, I fainted from sheer and utter exhaustion from my trying day. The last thing I remember is thinking, “My GOD!!! How will I finish my assignment now?”

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