I decide to walk after school. It's not that far to walk, to me. Just few miles away and there's Cypress Lane. If I have few pocket money left in my pocket, I don't mind spending it and enjoy a cup of chocolate milkshake from Sweet Slurpy on my way home.
Of course, girls like Naomi Ethwart could signify this long destination walk as a 'death trail'. I think a quarter of a mile could just kill her if she ever tries to do so , or maybe die out of thirst after continuous expressing her complaints. Complaints like " Oh! I think I didn't wear enough sunblock." (even though she applies sunblock with a SPF45 every half hour. She can finish a bottle in a day) or "Oh! I think my hair will dry out under a sun like this". 'Oh!' here and 'Oh!' there.
There are still the other 9568 complaints I can mention and put it in a book. Heck, I might be the writer that succeeds being a bestseller only with her debut.
Sweet.
I arrive at entrance of my house and unlock the gate. The front yard was greener than ever. Thanks to the water sprinklers Uncle Albert installed few weeks ago. His last visit here turned into a sales promotion.Dad just swallowed every word from Uncle Albert, just like swallowing popcorn chicken bits, that our front yard looked like a desert in Nevada. Therefore, Dad agreed to buy the water sprinklers and thanks to dad, Uncle Albert became the Best Salesman Of The Month. Still, no one bother to pluck the weeds then that are growing wildly, crowding any space there is in the front yard. So true, the yard is getting greener, but more of a jungle-like.
At the porch, I take out my keys out and unlock the door. Open it and there is Otto, sitting on the blue WELCOME rug, with his tails waggling from side to side. Otto is a Golden Retriever that I saved from being bullied by little boys that tried to stoned him to death. Children nowadays, sheeez. Sure, I got hit by stones too for such a hero stunt but it was worth saving this pup. It was hard training him, but easy to feed. Almost 40% of my pocket money were used to treat him snacks. Now, he's a healthy, big-sized, 56-pound dog that is always being thrown tantrums at by the owner. Best of all, he never complains (=.
"Woof!" Otto barks joyfully, suddenly leaps, twitching his nose, and trying to trace if there's any food in my bag. It's basically our daily routine, where he's going to do a briefing inspection on me by sniffing before I can make a step further into the house. What he aims for is nothing other than, of course, food. "Sorry there, Otty dear. Your owner here just used her pocket money for a milkshake just now. But do get down, and don't bark too loud; you might wake dad up." I say, as I close the door. Otto's tails drop down and gives me a low mourn. Then, the cuckoo clock at the kitchen strikes three o'clock. The blue bird pops out and gives a loud 'cuckoo!' squawk.He turns away and run straight to the kitchen. He takes it as a sign of tea-time.
Terrence is still not home yet,seeing that the living room is empty, same goes as the kitchen. I walk up the stairs, while humming Yolanda Adams 'I Believe'. Heading two doors to the right, that's where my room is. My territory. An asylum of my own. Away from dangers, away from madness. Hello my sanctuary, I'm finally home.
Of course, girls like Naomi Ethwart could signify this long destination walk as a 'death trail'. I think a quarter of a mile could just kill her if she ever tries to do so , or maybe die out of thirst after continuous expressing her complaints. Complaints like " Oh! I think I didn't wear enough sunblock." (even though she applies sunblock with a SPF45 every half hour. She can finish a bottle in a day) or "Oh! I think my hair will dry out under a sun like this". 'Oh!' here and 'Oh!' there.
There are still the other 9568 complaints I can mention and put it in a book. Heck, I might be the writer that succeeds being a bestseller only with her debut.
Sweet.
I arrive at entrance of my house and unlock the gate. The front yard was greener than ever. Thanks to the water sprinklers Uncle Albert installed few weeks ago. His last visit here turned into a sales promotion.Dad just swallowed every word from Uncle Albert, just like swallowing popcorn chicken bits, that our front yard looked like a desert in Nevada. Therefore, Dad agreed to buy the water sprinklers and thanks to dad, Uncle Albert became the Best Salesman Of The Month. Still, no one bother to pluck the weeds then that are growing wildly, crowding any space there is in the front yard. So true, the yard is getting greener, but more of a jungle-like.
At the porch, I take out my keys out and unlock the door. Open it and there is Otto, sitting on the blue WELCOME rug, with his tails waggling from side to side. Otto is a Golden Retriever that I saved from being bullied by little boys that tried to stoned him to death. Children nowadays, sheeez. Sure, I got hit by stones too for such a hero stunt but it was worth saving this pup. It was hard training him, but easy to feed. Almost 40% of my pocket money were used to treat him snacks. Now, he's a healthy, big-sized, 56-pound dog that is always being thrown tantrums at by the owner. Best of all, he never complains (=.
"Woof!" Otto barks joyfully, suddenly leaps, twitching his nose, and trying to trace if there's any food in my bag. It's basically our daily routine, where he's going to do a briefing inspection on me by sniffing before I can make a step further into the house. What he aims for is nothing other than, of course, food. "Sorry there, Otty dear. Your owner here just used her pocket money for a milkshake just now. But do get down, and don't bark too loud; you might wake dad up." I say, as I close the door. Otto's tails drop down and gives me a low mourn. Then, the cuckoo clock at the kitchen strikes three o'clock. The blue bird pops out and gives a loud 'cuckoo!' squawk.He turns away and run straight to the kitchen. He takes it as a sign of tea-time.
Terrence is still not home yet,seeing that the living room is empty, same goes as the kitchen. I walk up the stairs, while humming Yolanda Adams 'I Believe'. Heading two doors to the right, that's where my room is. My territory. An asylum of my own. Away from dangers, away from madness. Hello my sanctuary, I'm finally home.
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