Assignment #11

Here are three sets of words. Use all the words in each set to write mini-stories in 300 words or less.

Set 1
Paper clips, principle, lunchbox, swing, girl with a pink ribbon

It’s 8:30 in the morning and already it’s been the worst day of my life. See, I have a bad habit of swinging my lunchbox as I walk. Swing, swing, swing, swing back and forth in rhythm with my steps. I’ve never paid much attention to it actually until today. I was hurrying along, running a bit late, so I was swinging it harder and faster than usual. Hard enough that when the handle broke it flew probably twenty feet through the air before it hit the little girl with the pink ribbon in the head.

It knocked her clean out. The ambulance came and she had to go to the hospital. They said something about a concussion. So here I sit. Counting the paper clips spilling from the container on Principle Hale’s desk. He’ll be here soon demanding an explanation. It was an accident, though they’ll never believe it. I don’t even know her and they’re convinced I tried to decapitate her with my lunchbox. Is it MY fault the handle broke? The stupid lunchbox maker should have made it stronger than that. Maybe I can use that as my defense. Yeah. Works in court.

There are 23 paperclips on Principle Hale’s desk. Life stinks.

Set 2 -- Biology, class card, foreign student, leaf, blood sample

She looked at her class card again. Biology 101, Jones Hall, Room 314, 11:00 am, yes, this was the right place. “How odd,” She thought, “No one is here.” She checked her watch again. 11:05 am. She was late actually and somehow she was still the first one there. “Something must be wrong,” she muttered to herself as she turned to leave. As a foreign student sometimes she still had problems with the language and she wanted to be sure she hadn’t misunderstood the schedule.

“Pardon me,” she said to the young woman behind the desk. “Can you tell me what happened to the 11 o’clock Biology 101 class that is supposed to be meeting in Jones Hall?” She brushed at a leaf that had somehow landed in her hair and waited for an answer. None came. “Excuse me.” She said a bit more forcefully. The startled young woman behind the desk removed the ear buds of her iPod from her ears. “I’m so sorry. Did you ask me something?” Sighing, she repeated her question and finally discovered that her biology class had been cancelled and she would have to register for another section.

Frustrated, she strode purposefully away to the registrars office and found a spot in the long line. After giving the registrar what seemed like everything but a blood sample she finally got the class she needed. She laughed a bit at her own frustration. How quickly she’d become accustomed to getting what she wanted. How different a future this was than the one she’d have had if Saddam hadn’t been overthrown. She smiled at the flag flying over the quad. God bless America.

Set 3 -- typewriter, filing cabinet, puncher, clerk, carbon paper, janitor

She looked around the dilapidated office that the janitor had just unlocked for her. It looked as if it were a museum from the 70’s. An olive green army surplus desk dominated the room and a matching filing cabinet stood in the corner. On the desk was a massive IBM Selectric typewriter. She hadn’t seen one of those in twenty years. “What next,” she wondered, “carbon paper?”

She’d slaved for years as a card puncher. She’d been a retail clerk. She’d been a factory worker. She’d worked in a lawyer’s office. She’d punched one time clock after another in a series of dead end jobs until she’d scrimped and saved enough to try to make a go of it own her own as a writer. She’d rented this little office sight unseen. A fact she was now beginning to regret. Oh well.

She thanked the janitor, asked him about the cleaning schedule and closed the door behind him when he left. This was it. She was on her own. Taking a set of stencils and a bottle of gold paint from her briefcase she carefully stenciled on the glass of the door. “Tara Scott, Author.” She opened the door again and admired her handiwork. Looking around the office again she smiled. With a banker’s lamp on the desk it would look exactly the way a stereotypical writers office should look. She’d be happy here. Hopefully she’d be successful too. Time would tell.