***
I told Stephanie to write a paragraph using the direct speech which I entitled “One Afternoon in Wonderful Academy” with this format
_______________ said, “________________________
_____________________________________________
_____________________________________________
_____________________________________________
_____________________________________________
_____________________________________________
_____________________________________________
_____________________________________________
_____________________________________________
And she wrote this.
The Anonymity people said, “You don’t speak English well.” Yes, I known. But I was really sad. So, I was crying in the Ayin’s room. Ayin told me, “It’s okay Stephanie. They don’t speak English well too.” Now, I’m okay. I will study hard. [sic]
The Anonymity Boys (Yes, they’re boys!) was composed of a Big Bang rapper look-alike (Terry,) a tall, effeminate guy who’s terribly scared of me because he taught I’m overly pedantic (Elvis) and a sleepy little teenager who the other taller and older guys bully (Kelvin). As I see it, they don’t have enough bullying rights to tell a teenager girl her English sucks because they’re students too. But these boys even had the chivalry to tell that to the poor girl’s face.
I overheard Ayin mollifying her yesterday saying “Oh, forget that! They do that because they’re older and they’re boys.” That actually made me think, “Hey let’s go kick their faces and justify it by saying we’re girls and you're younger and we’re older!” Seriously, I still don’t get why age and gender are enough for these guys to bully other people. And the abused ones aren’t supposed to fight back because they’re younger and/or from the “weaker” gender?
Okay, enough of making a teenage joke a big issue.
So it appears that it’s my turn to mollify her (Since it's our class) so I said, “Oh and Terry said that? I’m gonna kill them!”
She responded with no less than a laugh. Then I remembered that I almost bumped into Terry earlier that day and noticed that I didn’t even reach his shoulder level. So how on earth am I going to kill him?
“For Kelvin, I have a fair chance of slitting his neck but for the other two, I’d be lucky if I could even stab them on the chest. The stomach is the best thing I can target though not as deadly,” I told her, tongue in cheek.
“Yes, Terry will only do this to you,” she grabbed a small stuff toy and strangled it. And then she laughed.
“Hmm. You’re right.”
“Scary. Killers,” she laughed again.
That did it. In case you were wondering where the other half of the title is, read on.
I told her the story of a small serial killer introduced to me by a lovely little kid.
Sandy (Remember her?) asked me once if I know Chokee. I didn’t have the faintest idea who Chokee was so she tried to elaborate.
“Chokee! He’s a door!”
“A door?” I queried, still uncertain.
“Yes, he kill! Very scared! Chokee Door!”
I still didn’t get how a door could possibly kill let alone have a name!
“I still don’t get it. How does Chokee Door look like? Square? Is it revolving? How does it kill?”
She slightly trembled as though she were talking of a scepter near us, about to attack any minute.
Then she grabs a pen and a sheet of paper and started drawing silently. After I realized who Chokee Door is, she immediately scribbled roughly on the paper to erase the image, shrinking.
This was what she drew.
