B2: My Favorite Season

My favorite seasoning is definitely paprika.  Paprika is made from ground sweet peppers, and can easily spice up any dish.  One thing I like about paprika is its color.  It can be red or orange, which are the same colors as my favorite season, fall.  But that’s not what I’m supposed to writing about, so I’ll keep talking about Paprika.

Paprika tastes sweet, salty, and spicy.  It is great on chicken or mashed potatoes.  It can also be used for barbeque and goulash.  Sometimes when I’m alone at my house, I’ll dump paprika all over the kitchen floor and roll in it and lick it all up while listening to reggae music.  Most paprika is ground in California, Spain, South America, and Hungary, but the Hungarian paprika is definitely the finest and best tasting.  I don’t put salt on my eggs.  I put paprika.  Some people go to Mexico and buy a couple kilos of pot.  I buy paprika, and then I smoke it.  I don’t make sugar cookies.  I make paprika cookies, with extra paprika. 

Another thing I love about paprika is the word paprika.  PAPRIKA.  Isn’t that mind-blowing?  The answer is yes.  The answer is always yes with paprika.

Remember that thing I said at the end of the second paragraph that made you read twice?  You know, that thing about how I make paprika cookies?  Well guess what?!  I will now show you how to make them.  Ahem.

First, you get a large metal bowl.  You throw pancake batter, cookie dough, milk, and two kilos of paprika into the bowl.  You mix them all together with a spoon, and then put the bowl in the microwave.  After ten minutes, take it out of the microwave and mold cookies out of the mixture.  Dry over a clothes line.  Paprika is awesome.

B1: Do I Use the MyFace

I have a Facebook account, though I wasn’t allowed to until last year.  At sixty seven friends I’m almost to the maximum amount.  I got it last year a little into ninth grade because I wanted to be able to contact my Swiss aunt, which is pretty much why everyone else gets a Facebook.  Now I’ve ditched the whole aunt thing and just use it to connect with friends that I don’t get to see every day.  Through Facebook I’ve gotten to know a lot of new people.  Every day I post something awesome on it that usually gets around zero likes, but that has changed since I figured out you can like your own status. 

Facebook has its downsides and upsides.  An upside is that you can connect and share with people in your life that live far away or that you don’t see very often.  A downside is that crazy people who like to do sins can creep anonymously on your photos. 

I think one of the major reasons I wasn’t allowed to have a Facebook was because of my aunt Janet.  Nobody’s really sure, but we think she is a little crazy.  She creeps on everyone in her family and friend requests their friends.  By the way, if you get a friend request from a person named Janet, DON’T ACCEPT IT.  In fact, I’d say the biggest downside of Facebook is Aunt Janet.

To avoid her, my brothers and I originally took up code names: Boniventure Hoy, Flashlight Jones, and Toaster Man.  Since then, Flashlight has been hacked and friend requested a crapload of people that I don’t even know. 

A lot of people interpret how to use Facebook in different ways.  Some post deep paragraphs about the innermost sanctums of their scarred, young hearts, some post song lyrics, and some just write LMS!!!!!!!;D.  I post amazing things on Facebook, and that’s all you need to know. 

B3: A Great Moment

It’s no doubt that some of the great moments in your life come from proving people wrong.  With that in mind, I think back to fifth grade, in that apprehensive week before Christmas break.  I was in Mrs. Panek’s class, the only intermediate school teacher that I really didn’t like, and along with the rest of my class, had just received a writing assignment: we had to think of a New Year’s resolution.  Within two minutes of getting the assignment, the whole class was lined up at Mrs. Panek’s desk, waiting to get approved.  We all had smiles plastered onto our faces, ready to take on our challenges, but as each student got their idea assessed by the teacher, they left with disappointed faces, plopped down back in their seat, and started erasing their paper furiously, some with tears in their eyes.  I glanced down at my paper:

My New Year’s resolution is to build a transport.

       My handwriting was pretty classy back then.  Anyway, I arrived at Mrs. Panek’s desk, and she gave me her usual pissed-off look.  I showed her my paper, and after skimming over it, she callously said, “There’s no way you can do this.  Go back to your desk and think of something else.”

                Feeling dejected, I erased my idea and wrote down a different one: to stop biting my nails.  Ha, yeah right.  I still haven’t done that one.  The teacher found my new idea acceptable, the day ended, and before I knew it, Christmas break was there.

                But a part of me still remained attached to my original idea.  When I got home, I walked into the living room, where my little brother Tim was sitting on the couch.  “Come on,” I said.  My eyes narrowed to determined yet angry slits.  “We’re building a transport.”

                Tim and I spent the whole rest of that evening and up to noon the next day in the basement and the garage, gathering supplies.  One hour and two rolls of duct tape later, we had built a transport.

                It’s kind of hard to explain, but I’ll try.  The base was made out of a tipped over dolly (you know, those two wheeled carts that people put boxes on), with roller blades taped to the handle to serve as front wheels.  The cockpit was constructed of a tipped over stool lined with pillows.  The driver would sit inside the legs of the stool, with the actual seat part facing forward.  There was a blanket draped over the top, to cover the holes in the cockpit.  On the side of the stool, in green paint, was written “The Spacer”.

                I emerged from the basement with a triumphant grin.  I had done it.  After Christmas break, I sauntered up to Mrs. Panek’s desk and slapped a photograph of The Spacer on top of the test she was grading.  She took a few comprehend what it was, and then her eyes widened.  I smiled wolfishly.   “Wow, Ben, that’s really im--”

“Save it, B!#&^,” I said.  She offered the picture back.

“Keep it,” I called as I turned and strutted back to my desk.

           

B4: An Entire Novel Compressed Into One Paragraph

There he, she, and him were and the giant, Trevor, came after him.  Oh no he was going to die but then the griffin saves him.  Then Steve dies and everyone is sad.  Then that one guy turns bad and kills that girl that I mentioned earlier.  Then the sage has an epic battle and almost loses but manages to throw a toasted almond at the bad guy which the bad guy is allergic to and the bad guy dies and then the traitor that killed that one girl kills the sage and then kills himself.  By the way that guy in the beginning’s name is JOE or Ben or something.  Then JOE or Ben or whoever he is marries that one girl the traitor killed’s sister, and her name is Lisa or Anne or something that has four letters in it and they have a baby who is the chosen one.  But they can’t keep the baby because BEN or Joe or whatever promised him to Steve’s sister CARLY, who was at a funeral for Steve and then the griffin flew in and told her that her brother’s friend’s husband had a baby.  What she DIDN’T know was that he was in the woods with that one guy in the VERY BEGINNING who was standing with Ben or JOE and that one girl who got killed when Trevor the giant was chasing after him.  Anyway HE had a really long beard with rats living in it, and Ben or JOE and Lisa or Anne’s baby who was the chosen one DID NOT APPRECIATE THAT BEARD.  So one day while the guy with the beard with the rats in it at the VERY BEGINNING was training that guy who didn’t like his beard who was also the chosen one, the chosen one raised his fist in the air and set it on fire and also killed the guy WITH the beard full of rats.  Meanwhile CARLY went to Ben or JOE and Lisa’s house and threatened to kill Ben or JOE if Anne or Lisa didn’t tell him where their baby was, which was promised to her by BEN/Joe.  But Anne/Lisa wouldn’t tell CARLY where the baby was, so CARLY killed Joe-ben and then Trevor, who was sleep-walking with a weapon, stepped through the roof of their house and also stepped on CARLY, who died two days later.  Anne-Lisa was so sad about her husband dying that she almost jumped off a cliff, but at the last second her son reunited with her and made everything better by shooting PURE GOODNESS out of his hands because he was the chosen one.  Then he killed the griffin because it was a tattle-tale and everyone lived happily ever after and then it’s the end.  I think.

A2: What I Hope to Accomplish

What do I want to accomplish this school year?  Is that what you’re asking me?  Well that is a very good question.  A very good question INDEED.  Give me a second to think about this one, okay?  Is that cool with you?  Well guess what, I can’t hear you, because you’re in the future.  I need to think, so chill out and read someone else’s blog while I come with something.  HMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Hmmmmmm. 

                I’ve got it.  I know what I want to accomplish.  Isn’t that great?!  Are you nodding your head?  Well good.

                Darn, I just lost my train of thought.  Ummmmmm…  Give me one more minute, alright?  I’ve got this.  Trust me; I’m from the past, so I’m older than you.

                Oh yeah! That’s right!  Wait, no, that’s for the other blog.  Ummmm. 

                How many words am I supposed to do for this?  Three hundred, right?  Yep, that’s right.  I asked Leyton, and he was like,

                “Yeah.”

                Do you want to know a magic trick?  Okay.  Think of a country that begins with D.  Got it?  Okay, now take the last letter of that country, and think of an animal that begins with that letter.  Do hurry, I’m running out of time.  In fact, by the time you’ve read this, my time has already been used up.  Way to be.

                Got the animal?  Okay.  Now take the last letter of that animal and think of a color that begins with that letter.  That should be easy.  Now here’s the cool part.  I will magically read your mind from the past, and see that you chose orange kangaroos in Denmark.

                Isn’t that cool?!  If that was completely wrong, then oh. 

                This has got to be three hundred words, right?  How do you access word count?  I just asked Leyton, and was like, “Go die in a wet, dark, cavern.”

                Caverns.  We’re learning about them in science.  Science.  I have a lot of homework in that class, let me tell you.  I have homework in this class, too.  In fact, this is my homework.  I hope it’s three hundred words.  I hope Leyton’s isn’t.  He was mean to me.  I hope he FAILS.

                Hey, that reminds me of what I want to accomplish this year!  Wow, I can’t believe I remembered!  I won’t delay any further.  My goal this school year is not to fail.

A3: My Favorite School Year

                My favorite school year ever was definitely kindergarten.  The start of the journey.  The glory days.  I remember first walking in; the smell of the classroom; the new faces; my exact seat; the bar code on my backpack.  My teacher was Mrs. Malik, who was old, but like all the other primary school teachers, looks exactly the same every single year.  I quickly adapted to the rules and routine in the classroom.  I took on the role of the law keeper, alerting Mrs. Malik of the crimes done by the class hoods.  Because of me, kids went home with Reds and Yellows, while I made off with a Green.

                A good while after all my classmates started to hate my guts, I resigned from my position and made some friends.  At free time, I formed a group called the Puzzle Finders Club.  We found puzzle pieces.  As their founder, I nicknamed myself Mr. Finds, but that never took off so I remained Ben.

                One of the things I remember about kindergarten was that almost everything was fun.  Painting, drawing, building with blocks, even learning was fun Mrs. Malik.  In fact, I think I owe that year to Mrs. Malik, because when she was teaching, everything was frolicking through a meadow.  The only thing bad about kindergarten was the pencil holding class. 

                For that, we had a special teacher whose profession was apparently holding pencils.  I have always had a weird grip on my pencil.  I hold it using five fingers, and the pencil holding teacher hated that.  The word “decrepit” was thrown around quite a lot.

                They say ignorance is bliss, and kindergarten is the essence of that statement.  Kids didn’t really have stuff against each other, everybody worked their little hearts out in gym class, and of course everyone loved the teacher.  Now that I’ve thought about it, it really was bliss, and that is why my favorite school year ever was definitely kindergarten.

A1: What I did

What did I do this summer?  Well, like all my other summers, the first thing that pops into my head is: nothing much.  I went on a few family vacations, hung out with friends, killed my brother’s imaginary friend Thidwick, but not many events stick out. 

And then my mind flashes back to July 21^st, and as the flashback music plays, I see myself laying belly-down in a field of tall grass, a bag of food and water on my back, a deadly Nerf axe in my right hand.  My alliance of five other tributes is crouched close by.  I see my target walking on one of the trails that crisscross the field: Jeremy Desjardins.  When I give the signal, my alliance and I charge out of the brush and surround Jeremy.  “Drop your weapons and your bag and we won’t hurt you,” I say.  “Be cool,” is the reply.  Jeremy lays down his two swords and his backpack, and everyone relaxes a little.  “Thank you for your cooperation,” I say.  “Can I be on your alliance now?”  “Nope!”  Without warning I lunge forward and whack Jeremy five times, killing him in cold blood. 

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  But this is real.  This is the 76^th Hunger Games, minus the killing, and I was chosen as a tribute.  All real weapons were substituted for foam ones, but the rest of the rules were kept the same.  Twelve girls, twelve boys, one winner.  Five hits mean you die.  Throughout these games, I killed a man in cold blood, started an enormous gang fight, faced a little boy in a sword duel and won, and betrayed my alliance.  I learned a lot about myself, and my friends.  Unfortunately, I did not emerge victorious; I was killed by former senior Tony Maue.  It was a memorable and learning experience for everyone.  Plus, nothing is much cooler than book reenactments and Nerf.