My Favorite Movie Quotes

Dumb and Dumber

Toy Story

Forrest Gump

The Spongebob Squarepants Movie 

The Incredibles 

 

Billy Madison

Hopper Inspired No.2

Boxcar 

It was, by no means, a good hide out. The old man said it was “only temporary”, but Sam and I were skeptical. The old man had a bad habit of setting up shop in poorly-picked places. It wasn’t hard to see that the run-down box car was a terrible place to hide from the walkers. However, there was a creek on the other side of the tracks, just over the hill. With a decent supply of water, a brief stop was understandable. We’d have to take turns sleeping. I wasn’t looking forward sleeping in the teetering lump of metal, much less sitting on the ledge of it with a shotgun loaded in my lap and a machete strapped to my jeans keeping watch. Oh well. We needed the water. Sam was getting dehydrated and could use a few days rest anyway. Hopefully we’d be back on the road in a day or two. Lord know’s we needed a more stable place.




Authors Note: I might continue this, I'm not sure yet. This one along with No. 1 is over three hundred words. 

Hopper Inspired No.1

The Station 

Hal told me to take out the trash. I fished out the last hunk of chew and put it against my lip before yanking the bag out of the can and throwing it over my shoulder. The summer breeze hit me as soon as I pushed the door open. The dry heat seemed cool compared to the stuffy heat inside. The air-conditioner was broken again and wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon, as if the station wasn’t run-down enough.

Old gravel crackled under my chucks as I lugged the bag across the lot to the dumpster. I passed Frank, who was filling up a few gallon jugs with gas. I nodded toward him, straightening my ball cap. He gestured back. Frank never said much, but seemed pleasant enough. Hal told us to always be friendly to regulars.

The stench of the dumpster was strong enough to drown out the fumes of gasoline. If i didn’t know better, I’d think someone was rotting in there. I tried to take few whiffs as I tossed the bag in. Glass bottles broke underneath the weight of it. Wiping my hands on my pants, I headed back inside, spitting on the ground in the meantime.

Window View

An old yellow truck,

and a young heart.

Today the leaves are changing,

as they fall into the bed.

The boys next door,

trying to catch them before they do. 

The grass is dying but cut to an edge.

Distantly, I can see the start of the path, 

that brought this heart here,

along with the owner of the truck,

the same. 

This is My Home

Authors Note: This is my piece on the pig art posters we looked at in class. The one I picked was a picture of the ocean. The haiku at the bottom of the post however, is based on a different print (I think it had trees on it? I can;t remember now.) Enjoy ~

            When I hear the sound of waves crashing upon the rocks, I feel so alive. Some may say that the beaches along the coast of Washington state cannot compare to the sunshiny getaways in Miami, or the island paradises in Hawaii. I think those people are wrong.

This is my home, a cloudy little place along the edge of the land where the ocean meets rocky dirt.  A place where there is rarely enough sun to attempt to get a tan, and where some people don’t even entertain the idea of applying sunblock.

 Unlike wave-goers down in Cali and the beach bums slumming around the Gulf, I don’t need sunshine to enjoy the ocean. I can smell the water from the beach, I can hear the birds and the white caps rolling in. I can feel the tide rise and fall as it attempts to carry me away. I don’t need suntan lotion and surf boards. All I need is ocean.

             I have taken a few accompanied trips to beaches such as the previously mentioned and I don’t understand the hype. The beaches in Miami were hot. The sweat dripped off of me almost aggressively. Apparently that was the case for everyone else too because it reeked. The air was so thick of human perspiration and spray-on sunscreen that I couldn’t have caught a whiff of that beautiful ocean aroma if I tried. The crackle of crashing waves was drowned out by screaming children and squealing women, and of course the occasional, “Riotous Dude!” Sure I could venture into the water, but it was too crowded. I ran into another sticky body every time another wave rolled in. Needless to say, I could never relax. The trip, a total loss.

I don’t need sunshine beating down on me to experience bliss. I don’t need a sandy match of volleyball or a waxed piece of wood. And I most certainly do not need a palm-treed paradise with the bluest waves as far as the eye can see.

All I need are waves and my white cane. 

I am looking up

finally I get to rest

autumn, the best way

Boy's Are Stupid (Narrative Poem Based on a Scene from Brody's Ghost)

Boys are stupid,

This I have learned to be true.

For trusting this one,

Maybe I'm being stupid too.

This one is upset,

and all bent out of shape.

Maybe, just maybe,

If I can get him to cooperate,

I will finally be free,

and of his burden, 

so will he. 

Akiko's Morning (A Narrative Poem Based on the Illustration Below)

I'm here waiting at the bus stop,
My pal Poog floating at my side.
It's raining today.

Drip, Drip, Drip.

It's early in the morning,
So it is still dark outside,
But the streetlight is illuminating this area.

Beaming, Beaming. 

Today should be a good day,
Don't you think so Poog?
At least it's dry here under this umbrella.

Nod.