college admissions financial aid college search scholarships ivy league college counseling ">
|By Puppy (Puppy) on Monday, September 22, 2003 - 10:44 pm: Edit|
Ha read my essay for pennsylvania on the "1st experiences can be defining prompt. I wrote this quickly and i am still not sure if its a good idea. (It's a rough draft. I think I should add more)
Guess who was standing on the front porch? That's right, it was Matt, and boy was he surprised to see me on this particular day! ''What in world is that?'' shouted Matt. " Copenhagen. ,'' I answered . ''Yah, I can see that, , but what on earth is it doing in your hand?'' . " Why do you ask, have you never tried?'' I cooly answered . ''Oh you think so, do you?'' he said.
We went behind the house. Suddenly coming to a stop, I took the container from my pocket. "You Ready???" I said it in so blasé an air that the words didn't come from my mouth, rather the hole in my throat. I mean come on, I could always get by with one lung, I wasn't pregnant, and hundreds of other products were slowly killing me. But I couldn't stop now. I had come a long way, baby, and was too deep in Marlboro Country.
Although I understand chewing is a seperate entity from smoking, they were equal in all aspects at the moment. Carefully, I placed a clump of the balmy, brown shreds in my hand. I had always enjoyed the satisfying smell of pure, unadulterated tobacco. The texture of it was like paper and the taste similar to the time I tasted shampoo, demonstrating smells can decieve. As it made it's way down my throat the awful taste remained. My throat burned and Matt realized what was going on. I didn't have to say a word. I left his house feeling low.
When I entered the laundry room three days later , there stood my father, pointing toward the shirt . ''Will someone please explain that?'' asked my father. Then, as I followed his finger to where it was aimed, I instantly knew what he so upset about. There, smack dab in the middle of the pocket , was the empty container! ''I don't EVEN want to know how that got there.'' "They were for a friend", I offered ,in vain. "Who on Earth do you think you are BOY, Keith Partridge." I dared not correct him.
In the aftermath of this first experience, I came out with a valuable lesson. Children sometimes deserve to be smacked.
|By Theadmiral (Theadmiral) on Monday, September 22, 2003 - 10:53 pm: Edit|
don't post u'r essays online, unless you want them taken by somebody too lazy to write their own
Report an offensive message on this page E-mail this page to a friend
|Posting is currently disabled in this topic. Contact your discussion moderator for more information.|
|Administrator's Control Panel -- Board Moderators Only|