Assignment

-Miss Graton

Pre-chart:

INSTRUCTIONS: On the lines below, complete the information asked. If help is needed, ask your teacher.

Your Main Characters: Zoe the blue Acara (Aka myself) I might add more later

Your Supporting Characters: Carla (Aka my owner) Dakota the red Pteri (Aka my brother) Angel the blue Aisha (Aka my sister) I'll add more later

Your Plot (Mapped out in different sections) -

Beginning: I don't know! Stuff! Middle: I don't know! More stuff! End: I don't know! Even more stuff!

Where does your story take place?

I don't know. In different places. I think.

INSTRUCTIONS: Below are empty sheets of paper to begin your story. Please write in your title, and begin writing. If you need help, ask your teacher. If additional sheets are needed, also ask your teacher.

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Title: I'll Decide Later

By: Zoe

Teachers know always know how to get you to do things you don't want to. Things like math, and reading, and PE, and writing, and assignments. And writing assignments. A combination of two of dreaded tasks. Which is what this is. A writing assignment.

     I mean, I think you might've guessed that from all that pointless stuff at the top of the sheet, but if you didn't, that's what it is. Stuff to hurt innocent students' minds. But they can't call it that; they can't be so straightforward. They must be formal. Assignment. Homework. Creative writing. Whatever they can think of, so owners don't fret. Ha! Fret! My owner - her name's Carla - wouldn't fret over anything. And I mean anything. They could probably call this "Torture in the worst manner", and all she'd do is shrug.

     I'm three paragraphs into the story now. Except, I don't think I've really actually told a story at all. I haven't even introduced myself really. So here it goes. My introduction:

     I'm Zoe. Well, that's not my full name, but everybody calls me Zoe, or they get a visit from my fist. Actually, I can't do that anymore. Punching people, I mean. The principal says he'll suspend me for good if I do that again. Or something like that. I don't know. His voice is boring, so I think I tuned out his lecture. Sorta, at least.

     Moving on, though. I'm a blue Acara, and that's because Carla doesn't believe in paint brushes. But I won't go into that story. It's really long, and it ends up foolishly. Really, really foolishly. See? This is why I'm a bad writer! I rant too much and go off topic! My older brother - his name's Dakota - says that I'm good with actually writing, it's just the plots I'm bad with. Which doesn't make any sense, but good for his opinion. Really. I couldn't care less.

     OKAY, finishing with my introduction, this is my family: I have two siblings, Dakota and Angel. Dakota's a red Pteri who's a tiny bit too dull sometimes, and Angel is a vain little blue Aisha who obsesses over makeup. And shampoo. She loves shampoo. My owner, as you know, is Carla. She's 14, with short red hair, brown eyes, and big feet. She can never find shoes in the right size. But I'm not supposed to tell anybody that. Oh well.

     So, I've written a lot. But there's still no story. Another flaw in my writing. I take too long. Way too long. When we left school today (I'm at home now, doing homework), Lara - she sits next to me - already was almost done with her story. She says it's good. I beg to differ. I know she's really bad at this kind of stuff; she can write really fast, but it turns out awful. But I guess I shouldn't say that, because look where I am. Nowhere. N-O-W-H-E-R-E.

     Maybe making up a story isn't my thing. But teachers… they don't understand that!! They think everybody has the same ups and they don't! Hmph, it's annoying. I read over the Neopian Times and go to Storytelling every week. Those are the writers, Miss Graton. NOT ME!

     Now what I'm thinking is "Can I really turn this in?" I have a feeling it'll upset a lot of people. But, what else can I write? This is so frustrating!

     To make matters a million times worse, Carla just walked into the room. She asked me what I was doing, and I said homework. And she asked what kind of homework. I told her it was writing homework. She shrugged and left.

     Now, you're probably wondering how that made things a million times worse. And my only answer is because it did. It just did! I'm so sick of this! Why can't somebody else do this for me? Why can't Dakota do it? He likes writing. Or Angel. Despite her annoying vain-ness and oodles and oodles of makeup, she's an okay writer. Everybody's an okay writer in my family and amongst my friends. EXCEPT FOR ME!

     How hard can writing a story be? My brain feels like it's exploding. It might be kinda cool if it actually did explode. I could end up famous.

     I met somebody famous once! It was a few years ago, at the Hospital. You see, Angel had accidentally ingested a dangerous amount of shampoo and she had to go there to get treated. I don't know what sickness. Poisoning or something. Whatever that is.

     Anywho, the famous person was somebody I really didn't actually know who they were. If that makes sense. But this green Kacheek went up to him, looking kinda rabid-fangirl-ish and asked for an autograph. He gave it to her, and I thought that maybe he was famous… you know?

     So I got a piece of my own paper and went up to him and asked for his autograph. He gave it to me, and on the paper it said "Sloth." Whoever that is.

     That was a story! Which means I'm finally getting this down! Maybe one more story like that and I'll be okay and won't fail this assignment miserably! Okay, let me think…

     Maybe three of four summers ago my ex-friend Lora (she's a red Uni. Well, she was at least) and I were craving Neopoints so we could buy this super-cool new scooter. Or it might've been something else. I forget now. Oh well, back to the story.

     She had this seemingly good idea to raise the money by going door-to-door begging, with our fur all dirty and matted, claiming to be poor, homeless pets looking for Neopoints to get by. I mean, it seemed ingenious at the time. Slightly cruel, but ingenious nevertheless.

     So okay, it sorta worked at first. We got around 100 Neopoints, which wasn't and still isn't that much. But I can't complain. It's better than nothing. Anyways, then we got kinda carried away and so absorbed in begging that we go up to this familiar-ish house. Except, we don't take the time to realize how familiar it really is.

     We begged Lora's owner - Tyler - for Neopoints. And he actually gave us 205. We never let on and told him. We never ended up affording our scooter or whatever it was either, but still. To this day Tyler still thinks he was giving Neopoints to homeless pets. At least, I think he still does. I wouldn't know for sure, though, because Lora and I stopped talking about a year ago. Long story. I think I have enough to turn my sheet in. It's not that long really, but I'm sick of writing. I mean, I never wanted to write in the first place but now I'm really worn out. And Dakota and Angel are going out to the Chocolate Factory in a few minutes! I want to come! So I'm done.

The End

     So, I received my story back. I don't know WHY I'm adding this. Probably because I'm mad! >=( I tried as hard as I could but I still failed! Pah, this is so unfair! Our little 'talk' ended up being her telling me that I had to write a story ALL OVER AGAIN because I failed. I'll show her! I'll send this into the Neopian Times or something and get it published and see her shock when she reads the paper in the morning! I'll see how she spits out her flaming hot coffee onto the table. I'll show her! I WILL! I promise! Now where does Carla keep the envelopes!?!

The End

A/N: Erm, that was my attempt at an original story. The idea kinda came weirdly and stuff, and yeah. But like… to avoid a few neomails: Yes, I wrote this, not Zoe. Those pets aren't real. I think. I DO like writing, so don't say I was trashing it. 'Cause I really do like it. Just some people really don't. You can neomail me with whatever you wanna say. I think. Just like… yeah. Um… bye^-^