Ok, I am anything but funny so I hope my attempt at doing this won't fail as bad.
Kevin said my writings has too many modifiers so when I wrote my second essay, I tried not to use adjectives and adverbs unless it was necessary. I came to the US for four years yet I still write essays like I would in Vietnamese (people there they put as many adjective as possible).
Please read my "sad" one first and then the light hearted one:
"There was a God somewhere watching over us" -an experience that changed your life.
Both has the same story line but completely opposite tones to it.
Don't worry about the grammar for the second one because I scribbled it while waiting at the bus stop.
Father forgot to pay the rent, again; I frowned when I saw our suitcases beside the locked door. I soon discovered that our possessions decreased every time it happened. I guess Father was sick of carrying all the tables and chairs wherever we went. But he didn't throw out my animal figures though. I promised him that I would carry my own toys.
Deep in thought like an old man, I was soon distracted by our neighborhood's cat. As proud as a little tiger, she marched down the empty corridor. I counted one, two in my head, synchronized with her every step. I wondered if animals could understand music.
Father took my hand, his other arm carried our luggage. I dug into my red book bag and pulled out a dog figure. Shaking my head, I dropped it back in and took out another one. It was a dragon, so I kept digging. I felt the long and thin tail with the tips of my fingers; I grabbed the thing. A mouse, that was what I had been looking for. I smiled, fascinated by the little plastic creature. Why the mouse always win in Tom and Jerry?
I shivered when we stepped outside; it was colder than usual. The vestige of the evening storm moistened the October air. Father handed me my little jacket, and I found two holes under its sleeves. Skipping along the wet pavement, I hummed to the Happy Birthday song that was playing in the distance. I remembered the toy flute that Father bought for my sixth birthday, but nothing came out of those seven holes when I tried to blow into them. In the end, Father decided to throw the thing away. Only pure acid could sanitize the pool of spit inside the pipe. "For the sake of our environment," he chuckled.
We passed by a house had its window open. Cai luong was blasting in maxed out volume- the worst kind of music that sounded like a broken violin and shrieked like a suffocated fish and the lyrics reminded me of the funeral home. But old folks like my Father seemed to like it even though I could never understand. Why not Twinkle, twinkle little star?
"Father," I whimpered. "My tummy hurts." I stopped walking and stomped my feet on the ground as any six year old would.
He smiled and took me to the bread stand nearby. He counted every last coin in his pocket. The store keeper complained about the pennies Father handed him, so I stuck my tongue at the guy before we left. Father broke off the the hard side of the bread and gave me the rest. I devoured the thing within seconds, still craving for more. But I knew better than to ask.
"Can we please sleep on the bench in the park tonight?" I asked with my glittering eyes.
I saw Father's eyes turn red so I stopped, thinking I did something wrong. He rubbed my head and nodded. I felt the excitement and couldn't wait to tell all my friends in school about our new adventure. As we sat under the big pine tree, I sang "Twinkle twinkle little star". Father just sat there and smiled. I stared at his odd expression, trying to figure out who my Father really was. Sometimes I couldn't understand his eyes, the eyes that carried such depravity and burden. I knew he was far from perfect. I was mad at the time he scolded me because I didn't brush my teeth, or the time he told me to stop picking my nose. But it was all because of that smile that enabled me to enjoy my childhood. Oh, and my animal figures too. Who needs five star hotels when we could see millions of stars under this big black sky. And taking a bath was definitely overrated.
Kevin said my writings has too many modifiers so when I wrote my second essay, I tried not to use adjectives and adverbs unless it was necessary. I came to the US for four years yet I still write essays like I would in Vietnamese (people there they put as many adjective as possible).
Please read my "sad" one first and then the light hearted one:
"There was a God somewhere watching over us" -an experience that changed your life.
Both has the same story line but completely opposite tones to it.
Don't worry about the grammar for the second one because I scribbled it while waiting at the bus stop.
Father forgot to pay the rent, again; I frowned when I saw our suitcases beside the locked door. I soon discovered that our possessions decreased every time it happened. I guess Father was sick of carrying all the tables and chairs wherever we went. But he didn't throw out my animal figures though. I promised him that I would carry my own toys.
Deep in thought like an old man, I was soon distracted by our neighborhood's cat. As proud as a little tiger, she marched down the empty corridor. I counted one, two in my head, synchronized with her every step. I wondered if animals could understand music.
Father took my hand, his other arm carried our luggage. I dug into my red book bag and pulled out a dog figure. Shaking my head, I dropped it back in and took out another one. It was a dragon, so I kept digging. I felt the long and thin tail with the tips of my fingers; I grabbed the thing. A mouse, that was what I had been looking for. I smiled, fascinated by the little plastic creature. Why the mouse always win in Tom and Jerry?
I shivered when we stepped outside; it was colder than usual. The vestige of the evening storm moistened the October air. Father handed me my little jacket, and I found two holes under its sleeves. Skipping along the wet pavement, I hummed to the Happy Birthday song that was playing in the distance. I remembered the toy flute that Father bought for my sixth birthday, but nothing came out of those seven holes when I tried to blow into them. In the end, Father decided to throw the thing away. Only pure acid could sanitize the pool of spit inside the pipe. "For the sake of our environment," he chuckled.
We passed by a house had its window open. Cai luong was blasting in maxed out volume- the worst kind of music that sounded like a broken violin and shrieked like a suffocated fish and the lyrics reminded me of the funeral home. But old folks like my Father seemed to like it even though I could never understand. Why not Twinkle, twinkle little star?
"Father," I whimpered. "My tummy hurts." I stopped walking and stomped my feet on the ground as any six year old would.
He smiled and took me to the bread stand nearby. He counted every last coin in his pocket. The store keeper complained about the pennies Father handed him, so I stuck my tongue at the guy before we left. Father broke off the the hard side of the bread and gave me the rest. I devoured the thing within seconds, still craving for more. But I knew better than to ask.
"Can we please sleep on the bench in the park tonight?" I asked with my glittering eyes.
I saw Father's eyes turn red so I stopped, thinking I did something wrong. He rubbed my head and nodded. I felt the excitement and couldn't wait to tell all my friends in school about our new adventure. As we sat under the big pine tree, I sang "Twinkle twinkle little star". Father just sat there and smiled. I stared at his odd expression, trying to figure out who my Father really was. Sometimes I couldn't understand his eyes, the eyes that carried such depravity and burden. I knew he was far from perfect. I was mad at the time he scolded me because I didn't brush my teeth, or the time he told me to stop picking my nose. But it was all because of that smile that enabled me to enjoy my childhood. Oh, and my animal figures too. Who needs five star hotels when we could see millions of stars under this big black sky. And taking a bath was definitely overrated.