This weekend, my mom walked up to me as I was sitting down in the kitchen and slapped two big binders down on the table in front of me. Apparently, she had gone up into the attic, rummaged through my old homeschool materials, and found a bunch of the essays that I had written during my wee years. It was this period that I wrote about in "Ego Hotline."
So, naturally, I started to look through them. As I read them out loud to my friend, some of the essays had me crying with laughter at the "quality" literature that my 9 year old brain had concocted. However, this one stood out to me the most. It's called "Eliminating Reports," and this, my friends, was my final draft.
Reports are nothing but a bore. I really despise them. They do nothing for me. I am not even going to be a writer when I grow up. Reports are hard because I cannot figure out the main idea or the reasons of the report. I can neither concentrate on the report. Reports take me so long to do. Just yesterday, I spent three hors [sic] on a report. I will try to make a plan for eliminating them. My first plan is to by a lot of goats and tell him to eat all the reports. If that doesn't work I will create a virus that will infect everybody and make them think reports are useless.
My first plan to eliminate all the reports in the world is to by 10,000,000,000 goats and tell them to eat everybody's reports. All the people on earth will suffer the wrath of making me do reports. I will keep the goats hungry so all they will eat is reports. Once I do that everyone will think there is no use for reports because the goats are going to eat them. I think this plan will work.
But if the first plan doesn't work, I have a PLAN #2. I am sure this plan will work. I am planning to create a virus and put it in everybody's bodies by touching everyone I see. The people I touch will touch other people which will make the virus spread. The virus will make them think that there is no use for reports. And there will be no more reports.
If my plan does not work I will just have to learn to not be stubborn and learn to do reports better. If I do that maybe I will learn to do very good reports. Then my mother won't make me do reports every day.
Past all of the innumerable use of the word "report," past my pent-up anger against writing, and past my ingenious plan to rid the world of reports, one sentence made me chuckle when I read it.
"I am not even going to be a writer when I grow up."
All I have to say is be careful about where you say you will never go, for you might soon find that God has already bought the plane ticket for you to get there.
2 comments:
I love this one, for God's ways are not man's ways.
This was great. You sure did hit the nail on the head, we are to plan with open hands not closed fist :)
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