THE CLOWN
Every January 15th was little Madison’s birthday and this year she sent out invitations to all of her friends, inviting them to her 8th birthday. The snow was falling heavily outside of the big brick house. Inside, the party was well on its way and it was time for cake. The twelve boys and girls attempted to carry a tune as they sang “Happy Birthday”, while Madison’s mother held the sugar-rich cake. The living room was completely dark except for the light from the eight candles on the cake. Madison sat in her own armchair, with a smile matching her excited bouncing blonde pigtails. Madison took a deep breath and blew out all 8 candles. Everyone cheered. “Happy birthday Maddie” echoed across the room.
After all of the kids stuffed their tummies with the yellow cake, they continued to run around the spacious house. At that point, the clown was 30 minutes late to the party, and even though the kids didn’t seem to notice there was tension amongst the parents. One of the boys sat down at the grand piano and his little finger dancers jumped across the keys, making terrible sounds and noises. “Look I’m Beethoven,” he bragged. “No you are not. Beethoven was good,” another boy picked an argument. The boys continued to go back and forth.
Madison’s parents were worried about the restless kids that they noticed as they look around the room. “He’ll come soon,” whispered the anxious father. “He better” says the wide-eyed mother quietly.“Where is the clown?” Madison asked her mother. “He is coming Maddie, don’t worry. He has faced some weather related boundaries,” explained the parent. Madison pouted, “Well I hope he comes soon.” And she left to go talk with her friends.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. The anxious mother jumped up and opened the door. There stood the clown with big shoes, a fake nose and snow resting on the ends of his rough curly red wig. The clown walked straight past the mother slapping his clown shoes on the floor as he went. Passing the kitchen and into the living room filled with happy kids on a sugar high.
“Hello I am Bozo the clown”, said the wigged man as he made a huge hand gesture resembling a wave. The kids cheered and gathered around Bozo. The mother and father stood in the back with relieved smiles spread across their faces.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Writing Assignment #3 first draft
THE CLOWN Every January 15th was little Sally’s birthday and this year she sent out invitations to all of her friends, inviting them to her 8th birthday. The party was well on its way and it was time for cake. The twelve boys and girls attempted to carry a tune as they sang “Happy Birthday”, while Sally’s mother held the sugar-rich cake. The living room was completely dark except for the light from the eight candles on the cake.
After all of the kids stuffed their tummies with the yellow cake, they continued to run around. The clown was now 30 minutes late to the party, and even though the kids didn’t seem to notice there was tension amongst the parents. One of the boys sat down at the piano and his little finger dancers jumped across the keys, making terrible sounds and noises. “Look I’m Beethoven” he says. “No you are not. Beethoven was good,” another boy picks an argument. The boys continue to go back and forth. Sally’s parents were worried about the restless kids that they noticed as they look around the room. “He’ll come soon” whispers the anxious father. “He better” says the wide-eyed mother quietly.
“Where is the clown?” Sally asked her mother. “He is coming. He has faced some weather related boundaries” explains the parent. “Well I hope he comes soon.” Says Sally as she leaves to go talk with her friends.
Ten minutes later, there is a knock on the door. The anxious mother jumps up and opens the door. There stands the clown with big shoes, a fake nose and snow resting on the ends of his rough curly red wig. The clown walks straight past the mother slapping his clown shoes on the floor as he went. Through the kitchen and to the living room filled with happy kids on a sugar high.
“Hello I am Bozo the clown”, said the wigged man as he made a huge hand gesture resembling a wave. The kids cheered and gathered around Bozo. The mother and father stood in the back with relieved smiles spread across their faces.
After all of the kids stuffed their tummies with the yellow cake, they continued to run around. The clown was now 30 minutes late to the party, and even though the kids didn’t seem to notice there was tension amongst the parents. One of the boys sat down at the piano and his little finger dancers jumped across the keys, making terrible sounds and noises. “Look I’m Beethoven” he says. “No you are not. Beethoven was good,” another boy picks an argument. The boys continue to go back and forth. Sally’s parents were worried about the restless kids that they noticed as they look around the room. “He’ll come soon” whispers the anxious father. “He better” says the wide-eyed mother quietly.
“Where is the clown?” Sally asked her mother. “He is coming. He has faced some weather related boundaries” explains the parent. “Well I hope he comes soon.” Says Sally as she leaves to go talk with her friends.
Ten minutes later, there is a knock on the door. The anxious mother jumps up and opens the door. There stands the clown with big shoes, a fake nose and snow resting on the ends of his rough curly red wig. The clown walks straight past the mother slapping his clown shoes on the floor as he went. Through the kitchen and to the living room filled with happy kids on a sugar high.
“Hello I am Bozo the clown”, said the wigged man as he made a huge hand gesture resembling a wave. The kids cheered and gathered around Bozo. The mother and father stood in the back with relieved smiles spread across their faces.
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