once upon a time

This is the final week of the writing class I've been taking for the past month or so. I got a bit off track last week, something I'm blaming on wedding-weekend recovery but really it was just because I was tired and a bit sick and I gave myself some time to just...be. (See also: I'm lazy.)

The class provides prompts each day and, though I haven't done all of them yet, it's comforting to know they're there when I need them. Because, you see, the point of this class was not to write a masterpiece in five weeks, but to get into a habit of writing every day. And I'm almost there. I don't know if anyone has noticed (or, you know, cared), but I've been posting here more often, and between that and working on the writing class prompts, I believe I've written something almost every day WHICH IS CRAZY. I don't remember the last time I did that.

I've always loved writing and telling stories, from the time I learned how to write more than a sentence, but somewhere between The Evil Summer and now, I turned it into a chore. And that's ridiculous because I actually really love to write! But I stopped doing it because I felt like I HAD to. WHICH IS ALSO RIDICULOUS. No one is holding a gun to my head. Where was all this pressure coming from? Oh, right, from myself, because I kept coming up with new projects and blogs and I started like five novels but never finished any of them, which all obviously means that I SUCK AND AM TERRIBLE AND DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO HAVE THESE TYPING FINGERS.

Anyway. One good thing about this class is that it's reminded me how much fun writing can be. It's probably the most fun I've had writing since the 4th grade, when our teacher gave us free time to not only write stories, but to illustrate them and make actual books out of them. I found one of these books a few months ago, when I took home an old scrapbook of mine from my parents' house.

It's called Benny the Bored Bunny and, though I didn't remember the story I'd written until I recently reread it, I remember the act of making it. Sitting quietly at my desk in Mrs. Castrejon's class, my head resting on my arm as I wrote the story, taking my story into the small room that served as the book-making factory, painstakingly putting the book together, and holding it proudly in my hands once it was finished.

Alliteration is fun!

I remember how excited I was to show it to my parents, as if I'd written and published a New York Times bestseller, not that I knew what the New York Times was at that point but shut up this is my story. And, really, that's how you should feel after you write something. After you've put that much work into it, you should want to show it to everyone, until they get sick of it and tell you to go away and find something else to do OMG WHY DON'T YOU EVER GO OUTSIDE.

Ahem.

So, once I finish this writing class, my goal isn't to immediately write some bestseller. I mean, OBVIOUSLY, right? Instead, it's to write something I'm proud of. Something I've worked hard on. Something I'm excited to show to anyone who might be paying attention. That's all, really, and right now it seems like just enough.

And I know that sounds cliché, and I know saying it sounds cliché sounds cliché. Maybe I’m being cliché, I don’t care.

I took this writing class in high school and our teacher once gave us the assignment to write a cliché paper. Which is exactly what it sounds like. A story with a bunch of clichés in it. I collected clichés for days, carrying my journal with me everywhere in case I thought of one. I mentioned this paper to Abigail back when she wrote about how much she hates clichés and then! I went home and found it. And so, since I have nothing else to write about, here is my high school cliché paper, creatively titled . . . Cliché Paper. Keep in mind that I wrote this in high school. Which explains why it sucks so hard. But seriously? If you don't read this, you're going to have to go back to doing some actual work and nobody wants that.

It was a dark and stormy night. A young couple stumbled away from their broken-down car. They strained to get through the rain and mud toward a dark house looming behind the fog settling over the soft ground.

"I'm scared stiff, Jim," the girl whispered, looking like death warmed over.

"I know we're in a pickle, Jane, but you know what I always say. Every cloud has a silver lining and when the writing's on the wall, we'll be fit as a fiddle."

Jim and Jane peeked in a dusty window. Jim grasped the rusty doorknob with a clammy hand. The door slid open with a loud creak that resounded through the windy night. Jim and Jane entered the house in the blink of an eye. The dark and dank of the house quickly enveloped their tired bodies.

"Help me!" a voice cried.

Jane turned as white as a sheet and said, "maybe we should just let sleeping dogs lie."

"Looks like the lights are off but someone's home," Jim quipped.

"What's wrong?" Jane shouted. "And please try to make a long story short here."

"I'm hanging on by a thread here. I think about to kick the bucket. To tell you the truth, I may have already bought the farm," the voice screamed.

Jim decided to go with the flow and answered, "you can shout until the cows come home but we won't be able to find you!"

"Help! I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. I've really painted myself into a corner. This is straight from the horse's mouth, you know, we're like fish in a barrel here."

Jim decided he'd had enough shooting the breeze, so he quit while he was ahead.

"You really put your foot in your mouth this time," Jane said. Jim kept Jane at arm's length as they bit the bullet and went to explore the house, but it was the blind leading the blind.

"I think we jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire," Jane whispered.

"You're preaching to the choir. This is just small potatoes compared to what could happen and no pain, no gain, you know. Even so, we may want to walk on eggshells or that . . . voice will surely hit the ceiling. I can read him like an open book." Jim obviously had a mind like a steel trap.

"This is a real headache, but I'm sure we'll soon be as snug as bugs in a rug. I'm sorry if I was crying like a baby. I'll try not to rock the boat again," Jane apologized.

"Look! There's a car out there by that lake!" Jim shouted.

"Wow! You're as smart as a whip, Jim!"

"I guess every dog has his day."

"You were dead right. Now let's blow this Popsicle stand," Jane said.

They ran out the back door toward the car. Out of the blue, someone came plummeting off the balcony and plunged into the cold lake.

"Is he dead?" Jane asked.

"I won't beat around the bush. He's as dead as a doornail. He must have been crazy as a loon."

"He must have had some chip on his shoulder. Why is he still floating there?" Jane asked.

"I guess there's a moral to this story," Jim said.

"What? Patience is a virtue? What goes around comes around? No use barking up the wrong tree? Two people breaking into your house is no reason to jump off the balcony?" Jane suggested.

"Nope," said Jim. "You can lead a corpse to water but you can't make it sink."

"You're one sick puppy, Jim."

"I guess we just don't see eye to eye, Jane."

THE END.

don't steal my idea or I'll cut you

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Jennie. Jennie took a writing class in high school and the teacher was all, "write a children's book," and Jennie was like, "I can do this, I work at a library and spend the majority of my time there reading picture books," and then the teacher was like, "also, illustrate it," and Jennie was all, "fuck!" and then, "I will make the pictures out of construction paper!" And then a bunch of years passed and Abigail told Jennie to find this book. So Jennie found this book. (Abigail is bossy, but she gets results.)

I have provided the words under each picture in case you can't make them out. I'd hate for you to miss them. My comments are at the very end.

1.

A long time ago, before humans were in charge, colors ruled the earth. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet. They were all very powerful, but each Color thought he was more powerful than the others were.

2.

"I am the best," said Blue. "I am the ocean and the sky. I am the calm that is carried on the gentle breeze. That is why I am the best."

3.

"How boring!" Red cried. "I am Christmas and the smell of cinnamon. I am welcome anger that comes like a quick storm."

4.

"That's nothing," Violet said. "I am the slurpy taste of grape juice on a hot day. I am the best, because I am the sharing that comes after the anger."

5.

"You are all wrong," Indigo chimed in. "I am the best. I am the first flower that appears when the winter snow melts. I am clarity that spreads after a season of confusion."

6.

"Well, I am spring!" shouted Green. "I am a frog that takes shape out of a floating lily pad and the miles upon miles of grass covered fields. So I am the best."

7.

"I am definitely better than all of you," Orange said. "I am the sunrise and a Halloween pumpkin. I am autumn, so I am the best."

8.

"Ha!" Yellow cried. "I am the sun and the moon and the stars. I am happiness. None of you can beat that! I am the greatest."

9.

"Excuse me, please," a gentle voice said from the sky. "I am trying to sleep. Please try to be a little quieter."

"Why should we?" Red shouted. "We are Colors! We don't HAVE to be quiet! Who do you think you are, anyway?"

10.

"Well," the voice began. "I am Cloud. I have always been here and will always be here. You may think you are the greatest, just because you are a Color, but I am the only one who can bring all of you together."

11.

With that said, Cloud turned black and fierce. White lightning made up her hair and she began to weep. Her tears covered the earth until everything sparkled.

12.

Cloud finished crying and became white again. The Colors shot out of her middle, all working together to create a rainbow. Puddles of her tears on the ground turned red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet.

THE END.

Wow. Just . . . wow. I'm pretty sure, at the time, I thought I was being really deep, which . . . no. The Colors are all assholes and why is the Cloud all up in their business? Also, Indigo is full of shit. That sure looks like pink to me. But what I think happened is THEY DON'T MAKE INDIGO CONSTRUCTION PAPER AND I DIDN'T KNOW THAT UNTIL AFTER I WROTE THE STORY AND CUT OUT HALF OF THE PICTURES AND BY THEN IT WAS TOO LATE BLAAAAAAARGH.

And no one threw a knife at anyone? LAME.

_____

Today on The Collective, Kat outs herself as a bit of a stalker.

maybe I'm unbreakable, just like Bruce Willis

Because I (wanna) quit the gym (!), I decided I need to start running again. Outside. In the elements. Luckily, the weather this week is supposed to be freakishly warm. Well, not freakishly warm as in it's going to be 800,000 degrees because CLEARLY if it was that hot, I wouldn't be sitting here typing. I might be incredibly awesome, but I'm not immortal. That I know of. I've never really tested it, other than consistently trying to drink all the alcohol in a three mile radius. I guess I COULD be immortal. I mean, I'm still here despite all the times I've fallen over and hit my head on stuff. Oh my god, you guys, what if I AM immortal? That would be amazing. Except that I'm totally wasting it. Oh well.

I almost talked myself out of going running because it looked like it might rain. Other excuses I have used to not go running: it's too cold, it's too hot, it's too sunny, it's too windy, my toe kind of hurts, I don't feel like putting on a sports bra, I can't find my shoes, it's too dark and I don't want to get assraped, there's an America's Next Top Model marathon on TV and Tyra isn't going to watch herself. Except she totally would because she's an attention whore. Anyway, irrelevant. What IS relevant is that it wasn't raining when I got home from work. It was somewhat cloudy and MSN told me that it was supposed to rain. I know because it had a little picture of a cloud with rain drops coming out. That either means rain or the cloud is crying and why would the cloud be crying? Maybe because he embarrassed himself in front of his cloud friends, I guess. In which case, he should stop crying because they're going to make fun of him even MORE if he keeps up the pussy baby whining. Did I ever tell you guys about the children's book I wrote in high school? WELL. We had to write and illustrate a children's book and so I wrote this story about how all the colors in the world were arguing with each other. Red was all, "I'm the best!" and then green was like, "uh-uh, untrue!" and yellow was all, "try having sunlight without ME, suckers!" and then this cloud came out and was like, "you kids be quiet, I'm trying to sleep!" and then she got angry and started shooting lightning and pissing rain on everything. THEN all the colors made a rainbow. Barf. I'm pretty sure I have this "book" at the apartment somewhere. That would be phenomenal. I think it might be even worse than The Evil Summer. Oh wait, that would be impossible.

_____

Today on The Collective, Abigail loves a LOT of people.

let's end this, shall we?

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

The Evil Summer: Final installment (OR IS IT?)

I couldn't move or talk. All I could remember were the words on the floor. It said it would be back. When? 10 years, 10 days, 10 minutes? I didn't know what was real anymore. The next thing I knew I was over by Randy, looking down on him.

"Did I kill him?" I managed to choke out.

"I don't know!" said Chris.

I dropped to my knees and put my ear on his chest. I couldn't hear anything. I sat up and said "I can't hear a heartbeat."

"Well, try gain. He can't be dead!" shouted Chris.

I put my ear back to his chest. After a few seconds I whispered, "He's gone. I killed him."

"No, he's not!" Chris yelled. "Move!"

She pushed me away and put her ear to his chest*. She stayed there almost 5 minutes.

"Hey, I - I hear something!" she said.

"Let me see!" I told her.

She moved away and I listened. She was right. I could hear something, too. I sat up, to happy to speak. I just shook my head yes, realizing that he wasn't dead, I hadn't killed him.

"He's not dead. I told you!" Chris yelled as Randy continued to wake up. By now he was fully concious.**

"What's going on. I told you that stupid game wouldn't work!" he said. We all stared at him.

"You mean, you don't remember?" I asked.

"Remember what?"

We told him what had happened. Just as we finished we heard a door slam. We ran upstairs. It was our parents.

"Where the heck*** were you guys?" Chris asked.

"We were next door. Didn't Bret and Josh tell you?" Chris's mom said.

We looked at Bret and Josh. "Sorry." they said.

"Nothing happened did it?" my mom asked.

"Oh, nothing unusual." I replied.

Later, the next day Randy came to me, looking guilty and asked, "I didn't hurt anyone did I."

"Well, you cut me in the side when you threw a knife at us. Then you threatened us with a gun." I said. "Does your head and neck still hurt? I kind of slammed your head on the washer." Now it was my turn to look guilty.

"A little, but I'm glad you did what you did."

"Oh glad to do it. Anytime you need to be strangled and beat up, call me!" I joked.

It's almost 8 months later and I've about forgotten the whole thing. Or at least stopped thinking about it all the time. Until I found a note on my bed one day. It said:

YOU CAN'T BEAT ME!

THE END
(or is it?)

OK. So that's over. I see several plotholes here. One, I think everyone's parents may notice the bloody towels all over the upstairs bathroom. Two, there is probably a bloody knife lying there, too. Three, um, where did the gun go? And four, was I really planning to write a sequel? I'm so happy that does not exist. Also? I still have no idea who half the people in this story are.

*It's called CPR, you 12-year-old morons. Look into it.
**I still can't spell this word
***see? I didn't always have such a goddamn dirty mouth

THE EVIL SUMMER (or The Devil's Free Hot Chocolate)

Part One
Part Two
Part Three

by 12-year-old Jennie (I feel I need to keep reiterating this)

I fell down. Chris and Justin helped me up. They took me to the bathroom. I used a wet towel to clean up the blood. It was just a small cut and didn't hurt to much. I put a bandage on it. I stood up. I could still walk. We ran down to the basement. Josh, Bret, Mandy, and Melanie* were down there. We grabbed them and told them what happened. Then we heard the basement door slam and lock.

"Oh, my God. Someone locked us in!" cried Chris. "How do we get out now?"

I ran up the stairs. It had to be Randy, or Patrick, or whoever he was.

"Randy?" I yelled. "Randy please, let us out!"

"I'm not Randy, who's Randy," it was Patrick's voice. I don't think anyone thought Randy was kidding now. Actually it isn't Randy.

"Patrick, please let us out?" Chris yelled.

"I can't, you'll try to stop me." he said.

"Stop you from what?" I asked.

"From killing you, of course!" he said. I ran back down the stairs.

"How are we gonna get out?" asked Bret.

"We could climb out the window." Chris told us. "But there** kinda small."

"Well you and I could fit through." I said to Chris. "But how do we reach them?"

"We could push the shelves up to the window." Chris said.

Justin and I agreed, because Justin and Bret could hold it while Chris and I climbed out the window. It took us an hour to take everything off the shelves and move them under the window. We used a screwdriver to break the glass.

Chris went first. She started climbing. It only took her about 2 minutes to get up there. Then Justin handed her two wodden bats. My turn. I put my foot on the bottom shelf. The whole thing felt like it fell over. I think it took me about 2 minutes to get otu the window. I looked at my watch and Chris gave me a bat. Good, only 8 o'clock***. It should be light for at least another hour. Chris and I started walking toward the garage. Nobody was in the garage so we went into the house and unlocked the basement door. We told everyone to go upstairs.

"Where should we go?" Justin asked.

"Um, lock yourself in the bathroom." I said.

"I don't think so!" It was Patrick. "Randy is gone now."

He had a gun pointed at us^. Where he got it, I don't know. He told us to go down to the basement. Chris went first then Mandy, Justin, Josh, Melanie, Bret, me and Patrick, holding the gun against my back. I noticed Chris had her hands behind her. I knew she was up to something. I just hoped Patrick didn't know that. We were almost down the stairs. As I stepped onto the floor Justin grabbed my arm and yanked me away from Patrick. Before he could shoot, Chris smacked his arm with her bat. He dropped the gun and I picked it up. He soon recovered and paid no attention to the gun in my hands. I guess he figured I wouldn't use it, and he was right, I didn't want to hurt Randy. He glanced at Chris and Justin who had triumphant looks on their faces until he tackled me and the gun flew out of my hands and across the room. I saw Justin run and pick it up, aiming it at us, but we were rolling around. I put my hands around Randy's neck and slammed his head against the washing machine. He easily threw me across the room. I hit the wall so hard I thought I would pass out. Then I felt 2 hands slide around my neck. Randy was trying to choke me! I pried his hands off my neck and I tried strangling him. He tried pushing me away but before he could I tightened my grip. He hit me hard on the head and kneed me in the stomach. I don't know how but I held on. I could hear Justin and Chris shouting and Mandy, Melanie, and Josh were crying and screaming. I think Chris was talking to someone on the phone, but I couldn't understand her. Everybody and everything was hazy. All I could concentrate on was Randy, and it wasn't hard since he was hitting me with more strength than one human could have. Finally he stopped struggling and a black, thick liquid oozed out of his mouth. He started shaking and making gagging noises as a black liquid formed an odd shape on the floor, from Randy's mouth. Then Randy dropped his head to the floor and stopped moving. The shape on the floor changed and formed the words I'LL BE BACK. Then it dissolved into the air. For a few minutes everyone was dead silent, all of us looking and Randy and the place where the words had been. Then everyone was talking at once.

"Is he dead?"

"I want my mom!"

"Call 911!"

"Help, help, somebody get help!"

[ok, so believe it or not, there is still more of this crap . . . but I'm tired of typing so it'll have to wait.]

*I'll be honest, even I don't remember who all these people are
**Confession: I had a problem with there/they're/their until like 9th grade
***WTF is up with all the time references? SHUT UP COURTNEY NO ONE CARES WHAT TIME IT IS OR HOW LONG IT TOOK YOU TO CLIMB OUT THE DAMN WINDOW
^this made me LOL^^
^^I should really stop Mystery-Science-Theatering my own story

courtesy of The Block

We last left our heroes HERE.

The Evil Summer: Part THREE

"Oh my god!" we both whisperd. Chris asked, "Are you evil?"

"I'm not, but the evil is inside me, waiting until I'm angry, to come out and attack, or kill." he said.

"Wh-aa-at, what's wrong," it was Randy's voice now. "You guys look like you saw a ghost!"

"You mean, you don't remember!" I said. "You sounded so weird. You said your name was Patrick and that you killed someone."

Then Randy started laughing and said, "I can't believe you guys believed me. I was just foolin around!" He was still laughing.

"God, Randy, I can't believe you. You're such a jerk." I yelled.

As I ran up the stairs I heard Chris run up behind me and heard Randy yell, "Courtney, Chris, jeez, can't you guys take a joke."

Chris and I ran outside. Our parents were already building a fire. I looked at my watch, it was 6:30. We were downstairs for 3 hours.

"Let's get something to eat," I said. "I swear, I'm never talking to Randy again!"

Chris said, "Why are you so mad. He did it to all of us and I'm not mad."

"Its just that, he was actually acting decent. Then he pulled that stupid trick!"

"Courtney!"

Oh wonderful, it was Randy.

"Ignore him," I whispered.

"Courtney, why are you so mad at me?" He asked.

"She likes you!" Chris said.

"Shut up, Chris!" I cried and hit her. Then she hit me back.*

"Oh you do, do you?" Randy teased.

"Oh yeah. When hell freezes over and the devil gives out free hot chocolate!" I said.

I walked into the garage, where the food was. I got some chips and a Pepsi and walked over to the porch and sat down on the steps. Suddenly, Chris ran up to me.

"Where are . . . our parents!" she asked.

"Where do you think, over by the fire." I replied.

She grabbed my arm and I got up. She dragged me through the yard to the fire. No one was there. The fire was dying down and glasses of Ammereto** and beer were sitting next to the lawn chairs. No signs of anyone. Chris and I ran back to the house. We searched every room, even the basement. We found Randy and Justin in Chris's room.

"What are you doing up here?" Chris asked.

"Trying to find you guys." said Randy. "Where were you?"

"Looking for our parents." Chris said.

"We've looked everywhere. Everyones cars are here."

"Are you still mad at me, Court?" Randy asked.

"I guess not. I still can't believe you faked it like that.***" I said.

"Are you sure I was faking?" It was Patrick's voice.

Randy pulled out a knife. Chris, Justin and I backed out of the room. We were standing on the stairs.

"C'mon, Randy stop fooling around!" I said.

"I'm not fooling around!" he yelled.

Then he threw the knife at us. Chris and Justin ducked. I felt a line of fire on my side. I looked down and saw my shirt soaked with blood.

DUN DUN DUUUUNNNNNN!

Will Courtney survive? Did all that teenage angst make you want to poke your eyes out? Did Jennie read anything other than horror books when she was 12****? Find out next time on . . . The Evil Summer!

*these kids are so VIOLENT
**HAHA!
***that's what he said
****not really

This is what you get until THE BLOCK goes away

Yes, I am going to subject you to more writing by 12-year-old Jennie. You might want to read Part One first. Not like it matters. Do whatever you want. I don't care.

The Evil Summer: PART TWO

Chris got out a cot and a bunch of big pillows and heavy blankets.

"OK, Randy!" I said. "Lay down."

"No way, first tell me what's gonna happen." he said.

"Well, you lie on the cot and we cover you up with pillows and blankets. Then we pretend you died and say why we'll miss you. Then your* sopposed* to feel like your* underground. Then a spirit is supposed to come out and we'll ask you questions!" I said.

Randy started laughing and Chris hit him and told him to shut up.

"You have to be serious!" she said.

"OK, I'll try to, but it's kinda stupid." he said.

Chris pushed Randy down onto the cot**. Then she threw a blanket on top of him.

"OK, now everyone sit in a circle" she said.

Chris sat on Randy's left, next to his head. I sat across from her on Randy's right. Bret sat next to Chris and Josh sat next to me. Justin sat at Randy's feet. Chris started talking.

"OK, Randy, take a deep breath. Now let it out slowly. Feel the life leaving your body. Good, now take another breath and let it out. This time feel your heartbeat slowing down." she continued. "I'll miss Randy because he was funny and fun to beat up."

Then Randy said something in a deep voice.

"What did he say?" I asked.

Chris said, "I don't know!" as we both leaned over Randy's face.

"Auughhhh!!" he screamed. Chris and I screamed.

"Randy, you jerk!" I yelled.

"I told you to be serious!" Chris said.

"Great now we have to start all over" Josh said.

Chris covered Randy back up after kicking him in the head two times. Then she started over with the breathing. Next she told everyone to say why they would miss him.

"I don't know what to say. I only see him once a year. I'll miss him because he was funny and acted crazy all the time," I said.

Josh went next. "I'll miss him because he was one of my funniest friends."

"I didn't know him good, but he was great at throwing water balloons at Courtney and Chris!" said Justin.

Bret said, "I'll miss him because he was one of my best friends. He was really cool and loved playing with fire."

Then Chris told us it was time to bury him. We all grabbed 2 pillows each. As we threw them on top of Randy, Chris said, "Your falling deep into the ground, falling farther. Down underground." She said that a few more times and we sat around and watched. Then Chris stopped and told us she was gonna start asking questions.

"What's your name?" Chris asked.

Then a voice answered. It was deep and scratchy. Right then I knew we were in trouble.

"Patrick Oleson" said the voice.

"Partick, how old are you" asked Chris.

"I am 14 years old." Patrick answered.

"Let me ask a question!" Josh said, "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"JOSH!" We all yelled at once.

"What?!"

"Yes, I have," said Patrick. Chris and I looked at each other.

"Oh, my god!" we both whispered. Chris asked, "Are you evil?"

Is Randy/Patrick evil? Do you have any idea who all of these people are? Will Jennie ever figure out the difference between "your" and "you're?***" TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR . . . The Evil Summer.

*it physically hurts me to not fix all the grammar and spelling errors
**kinky
***Oh oh oh, and by the way, Y-O-U-apostrophe-R-E means 'you are.' Y-O-U-R means 'your!'

The Evil Summer

By 12-year-old Jennie (I feel I must reiterate this. Also, I left all spelling and grammar errors intact)

PART ONE

I couldn't wait! My family was going up to the Keegans for their anual summer party. Chris and I had been talking about it since last years most boring party of all. Since then Chris got me talking about putting people into trances, and levetation, and all that ghost stuff. We have been waiting for this party so we could have more people.

"Courtney, come on!"

Oh, wonderful, its my mom. I guess I should go if I want to get to the Keegans soon. I got in the van and we started driving. I know in the car I must have been driving my parents nuts by asking them how long it would be until we got there. Finally we got there and I ran out of the car and into the house.

"It's about time!"

"Jeez you scared me, stupid!" I yelled. It was Chris.

"Did you bring the books?," she asked. "I got some from Christina."

"Yeah, I brought em," I said. I told her about some of the stuff we could do. We headed up to her room.

"First let's do the funeral one where we pretend to bury someone." she told me.

I thought about being buried for a minute. I had a great idea.

"Well, lets let Randy do it first!" I said.

"Let Randy do what, first?" said a voice.

Chris got up and kicked at something behind the door. Then a head looked around the side.

It was Chris's cousin Randy.

"What do you want to do to me?" he said.

"Oh, just bury you, bring up a spirit and ask you questions." I answered. "Nothin much."

Randy looked at me and said, "What are you talking about. You are nuts, Courtney!"

"Oh yeah, look who's talking, Mr. Pyro." I said.

It just so happens that Randy liked, no loved playing with fire.

"I just saw Justin come into the house," Chris said. "If you guys will shut up, we can go try it. We have enough people."

We ran down the stairs and into the kitchen to meet him. We told him about what we were going to do. We decided to try it in the basement, because it's dark. We all ran down there. Unfortunatly Chris's brother, Josh, and Josh's friend Bret, were down there.

After Chris and Josh fighting and beating each other up for awile, Randy and I convinced Chris to let them stay.

"Alright, fine. Lets get started," said Chris, not happy at all.

Will Chris and Courtney successfully entrance Randy? Will Randy succumb to the dark forces taking over his body? Will 12-year-old Jennie ever grasp quotation punctuation? Tune in next time for . . . THE EVIL SUMMER.