In another example of me never throwing away anything, I recently dug through my files and found the very first story I ever wrote. It was for an assignment in fifth grade. Since I doubt that it will make it into my collection of short stories, I thought that I would share it here. I know that writers cringe or want to re-write their older works, especially if they’ve (hopefully) grown as a writer, but what’s the point in re-writing a fifth grader?

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The Big Mac Attacker

Oh no; not again! The cover of the meat hamper opens. A grease stained arm comes down. In the background I hear one grease burger and a large french fries. I know it’s my turn to go. The hand grips my meat and throws me on the stove. Aaarrrggghhhh! I scream in pain. I think I’m bleeding as grease comes from all over me. Out of pain, I black out.

I feel strange. Oh no wonder. I’ve been cooked. But I’m in a state of shock and I don’t realize that I’m wearing buns. People walk by. Who will be the lucky one to eat me? That same grease stained hands picks me up and puts me in a bag. The last thing I see before I black out again are my friends french and fries.

I am in strange surroundings. Being raw hamburger, I didn’t get out much. I think I’m in a house. But where is the person who is going to eat me? Oh no! Over there, on the table, scattered pieces of french and fries. Torn apart, smothered in ketchup, doused in salt, and not very good looking. It’s my turn next. Wait a second, there he is carrying every hamburger’s deadly enemies … mustard and ketchup. Squirt! Squirt! Right between my buns. There he goes into the kitchen. Now it’s my turn to make a break for it. Uuungphff! It was a long fall to the ground. Uh-oh, he came back too soon. What’s that green thing. It’s a pickle and there’s an onion. He’s lifting me up. Aaarrgghhh!! He bit me. There goes a mustard/ketchup blop. I do believe this is the end. The agony of defeat …

Aaaaaarrrrggggghhhhhhh!!!!???!!!!!!

The End
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“The hand grips my meat.” I’m glad that my sense of humor has become more sophisticated since then. (Heh, heh, heh … he said “buns”.)