Slam

"Slam!" That is the sound my front door made just before I jumped on my smurf bike. It was a flawless plan. I rode off into the sunlight with a Fragle Rock backpack strapped snug to my side. In it, all the belongings a ten year old needs to survive, such as, my Alf doll, my favorite teenage mutant ninja turtles, some clean Thunder Cat underwear, and of course, my Heman toothbrush. Sitting back at …

…down and stick it in my face, I would just spit it or puke it all over her. Now that I'm older, my mother and I play a game called "Who can get the last word in," so instead, I write her a note which gets my point across, goes against her, and allows me to be gone by the time she reads it. So now, I'm the one smiling with the, "I win grin".