Tom: Tom Sawyer is a class A punk. He is a guile, smart-alec, fun loving kid that can't stand learning about things that he doesn't care about even though he has the potential. His discipline levels are way below the majority of kids in his town, even though his aunt is trying harder than the majority of caretakers to discipline him. Even with these problems, Tom is able to tell the difference between a goody-goody-two-shoes kid and a kid much like himself, which makes him even better at tricking kids that don't know of his background.
Huck: Huckleberry Finn is like the Robin to Tom Sawyer's Batman. Tom and Huck have many of the same issues and assets, interests, etc. Huckleberry Finn is an adventure addict that always wants something fun to do in life, and will do it as long as he's got somebody at his side. He acts as a vice leader to all of Tom Sawyer's games and adventures. The only big difference between Tom and Huck is the fact that Huck smokes/chews tobacco.
Becky: Becky is the new kid at their school who is able to attract attention from Tom. Becky is a girl that is just like any other girl at that time - a frolicking little girl that enjoys playing games and doing stuff that is said to be fun or interesting, under the circumstances that she doesn't get hurt or dirty.
Aunt Polly: Aunt Polly is probably the hardest working caretaker in all of their town, having to take care of Tom. She does what she can to discipline him, but it barely ever works, knowing that Tom still wreaks havoc around the house. She is a hard working person, trying to make sure that everything is in tact from when she leaves home till when she gets back, but there is always something to fix when you have to care for a feisty little brat like Tom Sawyer.
Injun Joe: The man known as Injun Joe is aa man that cannot be trusted. He is a no-good thief, murderer, and liar that will do whatever it takes to get away with a crime, including putting the blame on someone else. He is the person that people want to know about, but cannot, for their is a price to pay...
Friday, May 21, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
My Short Story: The Survivor
It hit me like a lightning bolt. The bullet jumped up and hit me before I could say “America.” My rifle lay on the Iraqi ground as I realize the situation- war has begun to get under my skin. Literally. All I can hold onto is the last little fragment of strength to say the words “help” or “I’m hit!” But before I gave it all up and closed my eyes to let God take me under his holy wing, I felt the ground under me shift. I was being saved, even though I would just be stitched up and sent back out like a kid with an injury whose dad forced him to play another football game. I couldn’t take much more. I just wanted to go home and watch my son grow as I grow old. But as long as WWIII goes on, I won’t be able to.
For the first time in history, America is losing. The Israelis have surrendered to the, once again, powerful German Army led by Rufus A. Hitler. We have almost no hope of winning this war. I didn’t sign up for this. I just want it all to be over, I really don’t want anything to do with this war.
As I heard the Hummer drive me to a safe place, I thought, Hmm. I thought I was going back in. Supposedly, they said I was too injured and had to see a doctor immediately.
“How far is the base?” I asked the medic who was constantly on watch of my heart monitor.
“About two more hours. Don’t worry, you’ll make it as long as this bandage stays tight,” replied the medic. I decided I would just take a nap until we got there, which was okay because they had all the supplies needed to keep me alive. I closed my eyes and fell asleep within two minutes.
I was awakened by a thunderous BANG, and I was immediately aware that we were being attacked. I looked out the window, which, to my good fortune, was bulletproof, to see on the horizon a German Spider, a tank the size of a semi-truck. My medics were unconscious from the blow, and the driver hit the gas, hoping he could make it behind a nearby hill. His hopes weren’t as good as they sounded. The heavily armored side of the Hummer was hit again, causing the truck to flip completely over. Once the truck hit the ground, I saw the driver get knocked unconscious. The truck stopped, and I tried to start walking over to the medics, who I found out weren’t just unconscious. The driver wasn’t either. Leaving me the only one alive, I knew that the Spider would roll over here and finish the truck off, so I improvised.
Just so that I would have some time to get away, I got out of the truck, which is when I realized that I was in an extreme amount of pain, and tossed a grenade into the truck. I hobbled over behind a nearby rock when the truck burst into flames. The sound had me deaf for about ten seconds, and then I saw the tank on top of the hill.
They bought the bluff, and rolled back behind the edge of the hill. But then, I heard the jibber-jabber of Germans in the distance. They were coming down to check for survivors. “Take no prisoners” was their motto basically, so they handled everything with guns.
I knew that I had little time to spare. My sidearm was busted, and my rifle was still on the Hummer when it exploded, leaving me with nothing to defend myself with. I hobbled out of sight behind a thick bush, and saw the Germans walking up to the remains of the truck, guns ready. They kept talking in German, so I couldn’t quite understand them. I think, from their expressions, they were surprised to see all the damage that “they’ve” done.
They bought it all, I thought. These Germans are falling for it! But just after that thought, I saw them immediately jump out from the truck and walk this way with their guns up and in full alert. Then I heard the faint noise of my emergency radio, which must’ve fallen off of my uniform. I thought for sure I was done for.
I searched my backpack, hoping to find something, anything that could possibly help me. Then I found one of my leftover Claymore land mines from our last attack. I was so thrilled I could’ve laughed, but they were slowly making progress. I set the mine, crawled back another ten yards or so, and threw a rock just behind the Claymore. The Germans fell for the bluff, again, and sprinted towards the land mine. I covered my ears and looked away, and I felt a vibration and some dirt shower over me. When I checked to see if the coast was clear, the Germans were lying still on the ground. I immediately started hobbling as fast as I could out of there, because I knew that they would send a search team looking for those two soldiers.
It was just the desert and I. Terrific, I thought. Just terrific. My wound was getting worse by the minute, and I’d been walking around the desert for just over thirty minutes. I was thirsty, tired, and starting to hallucinate from the loss of blood. My emergency radio was back at the truck, and that area was probably swarming with Germans. I couldn’t risk getting killed by the enemy. I just had to keep walking.
After another four hours of walking, my body just couldn’t go any further. I fell to the ground, too weak to cry for help. This time, I thought, I’m going all the way up. As I closed my eyes, I saw the silhouettes of people standing over me, and then just blackness.
I woke up to see a roof made of straw. I tried to sit up, but I was obviously under anesthesia before I woke up, so I was having trouble even moving. I eventually found the strength to sit up, and found that I was in a small hut. I looked around to see that nobody was there but me. The place seemed tribal, but there was a heart monitor and a TV in the hut. I was extremely confused.
When I looked under my shirt to check my wound, I saw that it was stitched up and disinfected. I stood up when I was ready to walk around, and walked outside. I was in an Iraqi village in the middle of nowhere. I had my doubts about staying here, due to the fact that the Iraq War ended with a peace treaty after total domination of their army just five years ago. I walked around and was startled by two Iraqi soldiers running towards me. I was ready for anything, except what they were about to do.
“Come with us, Mr. Nacrelli. Our president would like to speak with you,” the soldier on the left said. Apparently, this was Baghdad, the capital of Iraq.
“How did you know my name?” I said in return.
“We found an identity card in your bag.” The soldier took my ID out of his pocket and gave it back to me.
“Okay then. Can you take me to the president?” I was a bit shaky, but I knew that they were serious.
“Of course.”
After about two miles of walking through the village, we reached the president’s office. The president wasn’t bilingual, so he had a professional translator.
The president muttered some words in Arabian, and the translator said, ”Welcome to Iraq Mr. Nacrelli. We the people of Iraq welcome you with open arms.”
In reply, I said, ”Why do you do so? I am in dept to you if anything for saving my life out on that desert.”
The translator muttered some Arabian into the president’s ear, and the president did the same, telling the translator to say, “Well, there is a dept to be paid, and that is why we welcome you. The Germans are on their way here. They might be planning an invasion to take over the city. We need you to contact American soil and send us some help.” The translator cleared his throat.
I replied, “I can, but I will need an active radio. Do you have one close by?”
“Yes, we do. It is in that next room,” the translator said, as he pointed in the direction of the room.
I was dismissed to the radio room, and found a large, high quality radio with many dials and a large antenna. I found the instructions to set the dials to the correct transmission, and I said, “Private Nacrelli to U.S. Army, do you read, over?”
“Yes, this is the U.S Army base.” I was so relieved to hear Sergeant Conley’s voice. He recognized mine as well. “What are you doing with an Iraqi radio transmission, over?”
“They have shown me hospitality since I was wounded, sir. But that’s not the point. The Germans are on their way here to Baghdad, sir. We need all the help we can get.”
“Roger that. Sending available troops to Baghdad, over and out.” I heard the click of the microphone being hung back up as the transmission faded. Once the American soldiers were here, lucky for us that the Germans didn’t get here first, the Iraqi president called up a town evacuation. The citizens got out of the city quickly and without a single question why.
The president muttered started speaking Arabian, and the translator said, “It is good that all of you are here on such short notice. The Germans are probably taking their sweet time getting here, because they think that we want them to sign a treaty for peace and alliance. My snipers will take the top floors of buildings, and you Americans will hide in the darkest alleyways. Hitler will be here to negotiate, under much protection of course.” To those words, my men were excited and obviously ready to end the war once and for all. “I will need large explosives, missiles, or anything that can possibly flip any large armored truck they have. Good luck everyone. From my radar readings, it looks like they’ll be here in about, say, twenty minutes.” With that, all of the soldiers left and started preparing.
When Hitler's escort got here, we were more than ready. The snipers and the soldiers did their jobs correctly, and nailed the predicament down to one target-the man in the truck, Gen. Rufus Hitler. The truck he was riding in had been flipped over by our attack. Hitler was all ours.
We got all the men we could to flip the truck over, and as soon as we did, we saw Hitler sitting in his seat, shell-shocked and bleeding. We took him out of the truck, cuffed his hands and feet, and brought him to a small, wooden shack. We tied his feet to a chair, drenched the shack in gasoline, and lit it on fire. It was all over.
When I got home, my child was waiting for me, with arms open and ready for a hug, yelling “daddy daddy daddy!” My wife came to me, teary-eyed and also ready for a warm “welcome home” embrace. I couldn’t wait to just get home and eat a real dinner with my family and sleep in a real bed with my wife. I also hadn’t seen my kid since he was just starting to walk. He was starting second grade the week after I returned.
I got home to a surprise party that was waiting for me. Many of my old friends from the neighborhood and even high school were there. After about two hours of eating cake, which tasted delicious, and dancing around with the guests, everyone went back home. I took my kid to bed, tucked him in, and read him a story, which put him right to sleep. I slipped under the covers of my regular, non-top bunk bed with my wife, and fell right to sleep. Being home was great. But I’ll be having nightmares, something I’ve never had, for the rest of my life.
Click the object and press spacebar to play.
Or download the file.
For the first time in history, America is losing. The Israelis have surrendered to the, once again, powerful German Army led by Rufus A. Hitler. We have almost no hope of winning this war. I didn’t sign up for this. I just want it all to be over, I really don’t want anything to do with this war.
As I heard the Hummer drive me to a safe place, I thought, Hmm. I thought I was going back in. Supposedly, they said I was too injured and had to see a doctor immediately.
“How far is the base?” I asked the medic who was constantly on watch of my heart monitor.
“About two more hours. Don’t worry, you’ll make it as long as this bandage stays tight,” replied the medic. I decided I would just take a nap until we got there, which was okay because they had all the supplies needed to keep me alive. I closed my eyes and fell asleep within two minutes.
I was awakened by a thunderous BANG, and I was immediately aware that we were being attacked. I looked out the window, which, to my good fortune, was bulletproof, to see on the horizon a German Spider, a tank the size of a semi-truck. My medics were unconscious from the blow, and the driver hit the gas, hoping he could make it behind a nearby hill. His hopes weren’t as good as they sounded. The heavily armored side of the Hummer was hit again, causing the truck to flip completely over. Once the truck hit the ground, I saw the driver get knocked unconscious. The truck stopped, and I tried to start walking over to the medics, who I found out weren’t just unconscious. The driver wasn’t either. Leaving me the only one alive, I knew that the Spider would roll over here and finish the truck off, so I improvised.
Just so that I would have some time to get away, I got out of the truck, which is when I realized that I was in an extreme amount of pain, and tossed a grenade into the truck. I hobbled over behind a nearby rock when the truck burst into flames. The sound had me deaf for about ten seconds, and then I saw the tank on top of the hill.
They bought the bluff, and rolled back behind the edge of the hill. But then, I heard the jibber-jabber of Germans in the distance. They were coming down to check for survivors. “Take no prisoners” was their motto basically, so they handled everything with guns.
I knew that I had little time to spare. My sidearm was busted, and my rifle was still on the Hummer when it exploded, leaving me with nothing to defend myself with. I hobbled out of sight behind a thick bush, and saw the Germans walking up to the remains of the truck, guns ready. They kept talking in German, so I couldn’t quite understand them. I think, from their expressions, they were surprised to see all the damage that “they’ve” done.
They bought it all, I thought. These Germans are falling for it! But just after that thought, I saw them immediately jump out from the truck and walk this way with their guns up and in full alert. Then I heard the faint noise of my emergency radio, which must’ve fallen off of my uniform. I thought for sure I was done for.
I searched my backpack, hoping to find something, anything that could possibly help me. Then I found one of my leftover Claymore land mines from our last attack. I was so thrilled I could’ve laughed, but they were slowly making progress. I set the mine, crawled back another ten yards or so, and threw a rock just behind the Claymore. The Germans fell for the bluff, again, and sprinted towards the land mine. I covered my ears and looked away, and I felt a vibration and some dirt shower over me. When I checked to see if the coast was clear, the Germans were lying still on the ground. I immediately started hobbling as fast as I could out of there, because I knew that they would send a search team looking for those two soldiers.
It was just the desert and I. Terrific, I thought. Just terrific. My wound was getting worse by the minute, and I’d been walking around the desert for just over thirty minutes. I was thirsty, tired, and starting to hallucinate from the loss of blood. My emergency radio was back at the truck, and that area was probably swarming with Germans. I couldn’t risk getting killed by the enemy. I just had to keep walking.
After another four hours of walking, my body just couldn’t go any further. I fell to the ground, too weak to cry for help. This time, I thought, I’m going all the way up. As I closed my eyes, I saw the silhouettes of people standing over me, and then just blackness.
I woke up to see a roof made of straw. I tried to sit up, but I was obviously under anesthesia before I woke up, so I was having trouble even moving. I eventually found the strength to sit up, and found that I was in a small hut. I looked around to see that nobody was there but me. The place seemed tribal, but there was a heart monitor and a TV in the hut. I was extremely confused.
When I looked under my shirt to check my wound, I saw that it was stitched up and disinfected. I stood up when I was ready to walk around, and walked outside. I was in an Iraqi village in the middle of nowhere. I had my doubts about staying here, due to the fact that the Iraq War ended with a peace treaty after total domination of their army just five years ago. I walked around and was startled by two Iraqi soldiers running towards me. I was ready for anything, except what they were about to do.
“Come with us, Mr. Nacrelli. Our president would like to speak with you,” the soldier on the left said. Apparently, this was Baghdad, the capital of Iraq.
“How did you know my name?” I said in return.
“We found an identity card in your bag.” The soldier took my ID out of his pocket and gave it back to me.
“Okay then. Can you take me to the president?” I was a bit shaky, but I knew that they were serious.
“Of course.”
After about two miles of walking through the village, we reached the president’s office. The president wasn’t bilingual, so he had a professional translator.
The president muttered some words in Arabian, and the translator said, ”Welcome to Iraq Mr. Nacrelli. We the people of Iraq welcome you with open arms.”
In reply, I said, ”Why do you do so? I am in dept to you if anything for saving my life out on that desert.”
The translator muttered some Arabian into the president’s ear, and the president did the same, telling the translator to say, “Well, there is a dept to be paid, and that is why we welcome you. The Germans are on their way here. They might be planning an invasion to take over the city. We need you to contact American soil and send us some help.” The translator cleared his throat.
I replied, “I can, but I will need an active radio. Do you have one close by?”
“Yes, we do. It is in that next room,” the translator said, as he pointed in the direction of the room.
I was dismissed to the radio room, and found a large, high quality radio with many dials and a large antenna. I found the instructions to set the dials to the correct transmission, and I said, “Private Nacrelli to U.S. Army, do you read, over?”
“Yes, this is the U.S Army base.” I was so relieved to hear Sergeant Conley’s voice. He recognized mine as well. “What are you doing with an Iraqi radio transmission, over?”
“They have shown me hospitality since I was wounded, sir. But that’s not the point. The Germans are on their way here to Baghdad, sir. We need all the help we can get.”
“Roger that. Sending available troops to Baghdad, over and out.” I heard the click of the microphone being hung back up as the transmission faded. Once the American soldiers were here, lucky for us that the Germans didn’t get here first, the Iraqi president called up a town evacuation. The citizens got out of the city quickly and without a single question why.
The president muttered started speaking Arabian, and the translator said, “It is good that all of you are here on such short notice. The Germans are probably taking their sweet time getting here, because they think that we want them to sign a treaty for peace and alliance. My snipers will take the top floors of buildings, and you Americans will hide in the darkest alleyways. Hitler will be here to negotiate, under much protection of course.” To those words, my men were excited and obviously ready to end the war once and for all. “I will need large explosives, missiles, or anything that can possibly flip any large armored truck they have. Good luck everyone. From my radar readings, it looks like they’ll be here in about, say, twenty minutes.” With that, all of the soldiers left and started preparing.
When Hitler's escort got here, we were more than ready. The snipers and the soldiers did their jobs correctly, and nailed the predicament down to one target-the man in the truck, Gen. Rufus Hitler. The truck he was riding in had been flipped over by our attack. Hitler was all ours.
We got all the men we could to flip the truck over, and as soon as we did, we saw Hitler sitting in his seat, shell-shocked and bleeding. We took him out of the truck, cuffed his hands and feet, and brought him to a small, wooden shack. We tied his feet to a chair, drenched the shack in gasoline, and lit it on fire. It was all over.
When I got home, my child was waiting for me, with arms open and ready for a hug, yelling “daddy daddy daddy!” My wife came to me, teary-eyed and also ready for a warm “welcome home” embrace. I couldn’t wait to just get home and eat a real dinner with my family and sleep in a real bed with my wife. I also hadn’t seen my kid since he was just starting to walk. He was starting second grade the week after I returned.
I got home to a surprise party that was waiting for me. Many of my old friends from the neighborhood and even high school were there. After about two hours of eating cake, which tasted delicious, and dancing around with the guests, everyone went back home. I took my kid to bed, tucked him in, and read him a story, which put him right to sleep. I slipped under the covers of my regular, non-top bunk bed with my wife, and fell right to sleep. Being home was great. But I’ll be having nightmares, something I’ve never had, for the rest of my life.
Click the object and press spacebar to play.
Or download the file.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Who Should Decide Which Books Are Suitable for Young People?
Question 4
I believe that the teacher or principle should expect to explain the reasons of why a book is on a school literature list. The school should be able to give kids the right to read whatever books that they choose on a suggested list. There should be a little bit of swearing allowed in a good novel to show harsh conflict and what is so harsh about the conflict.
Also, books meant for just kids might be have childish of stories for someone at the end of elementary school or in middle school. Even Harry Potter has some profanity in it, so why should that, being one of the most-read and favorite series' in the world by children, be banned from school libraries? Kids can't read Dr. Seuss for their entire childhood! The teachers should know what books are good enough and what books are too inappropriate to read for a good story or topic.
I believe that the teacher or principle should expect to explain the reasons of why a book is on a school literature list. The school should be able to give kids the right to read whatever books that they choose on a suggested list. There should be a little bit of swearing allowed in a good novel to show harsh conflict and what is so harsh about the conflict.
Also, books meant for just kids might be have childish of stories for someone at the end of elementary school or in middle school. Even Harry Potter has some profanity in it, so why should that, being one of the most-read and favorite series' in the world by children, be banned from school libraries? Kids can't read Dr. Seuss for their entire childhood! The teachers should know what books are good enough and what books are too inappropriate to read for a good story or topic.
Monday, December 14, 2009
A.C.C.-Is It Always OK to "Look Out for #1?"
I believe that "looking out for number one" is a rule that depends on certain situations. For example, would you rather sharpen your pencil before or after someone behind you in line even though you've been waiting longer? But if there was someone more important for the safety of the people about to be tossed into boiling lava, would you save yourself or sacrifice yourself for the good of the people? So I believe that you are given choices for you to decide. If you do whatever someone asks you to do no matter the circumstances, people will see you as an easy target to do their dirty work. If you don't do anything to help other people at any time in your life, people will see you as an inconsiderate jerk that helps nobody but himself (A.K.A a Scrooge). So I believe that you should vary these "looking out for number one" situations.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
A Christmas Carol (Scrooge's Diary)
December 24
Whenever I walk around just to get food or supplies, the children in their winter coats and winter shoes yelling "Merry Christmas!" always ambushing me. If only people could understand what Humbug this Christmas really is! Businesses not getting any richer, town beggars not getting any healthier, having to freeze in the corners of the square with nothing but a "Merry Christmas" as an attempt to make them feel any better. Bah Humbug! Once this is over, I'll have another year until I have to hear the shrewd bells and off-tone carols played by the insignificant children on "Christmas."
For another day,
Ebenezer Scrooge
Whenever I walk around just to get food or supplies, the children in their winter coats and winter shoes yelling "Merry Christmas!" always ambushing me. If only people could understand what Humbug this Christmas really is! Businesses not getting any richer, town beggars not getting any healthier, having to freeze in the corners of the square with nothing but a "Merry Christmas" as an attempt to make them feel any better. Bah Humbug! Once this is over, I'll have another year until I have to hear the shrewd bells and off-tone carols played by the insignificant children on "Christmas."
For another day,
Ebenezer Scrooge
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The Pearl
Kino sees his family becoming rich and sees hope for Coyotito in the pearl. He sees Coyotito going to school, learning how to read and write, and making it out of this scorpion bite alive.
Juana sees jealousy, greed, and destruction in the pearl. She just wants the pearl destroyed, for it is bringing a deep, burning jealousy out of many others, as well as greed.
The doctor sees money, money, and more money in the pearl, for he is the one that'll supposedly cure Coyotito. If he doesn't poison him...
Their neighbors see Kino's family becoming healthy, rich, and educated townspeople. That makes them extremely jealous and angry towards Kino. They all believe that they were put on this Earth by God Almighty and meant to be peasants, but they are mad at Kino for trying to be something he never thought he was going to be.
The townspeople are all curious as they are jealous. They all want to see how much money Kino gets for this gigantic pearl, but they also want all of that money.
The priest knows that Kino was blessed by the almighty Lord to find that pearl, and for that he is happy towards Kino. But he also has the same feelings as everyone else-greed and envy.
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