Jack vs. ScottIm just saying, said Scott.Jack forwarded me an emailI dont care about it, so hes destined to fail.I dont agree, said Jack.You mock me, and I know what I say.And I speak only the truth this day.Im just saying, said Scott.I pointed out that your beef is well hiddenAnd you just make it public with your obnoxious fiction.I dont agree, said Jack.You gamers are all on drugsYour judgment stinks, and youre all thugs.Im just saying, said Scott.I must have hit a bit close to homeAnd now youve taken to insulting me all the time.I dont agree. said Jack.People threatened to kill meFor a crusade I know is holy and meant to beIm just saying, said Scott.You emailed me, and I respondNow you say I was the one who sent you that forwardI dont see how tha
UniquenessAs long as I remember,Ive always been the black sheep,No other relative is left-handed,Nor is anyone else at my school has such inset grammar skills,I wonder often, is there any other like me,Because no matter how hard I search,No matter where I turn,There is none other who shares my quirks round here.Art is my passion,To create beauty with a pencil makes me squeal,To write insanely in the space of but a month is my calling.During the day, I daydream,During the night, I dream,But I have yet to find a truer friend here than a brand-new pencil.Well, that notion still lives on,But I have finally found a herd of black sheep.Tis known affectionately to me as the Danny Phantom Online Forums.The people there are simply wonderful,Diversity is greatly embraced,And there are at least twenty on there whom I dearly love,Even though I may never see their faces.It all began with but a cartoon,A cartoon that practically became my life.Tis is on Nickelode
The SporkI glare at the white spork.It had once been in my pork.But now it looks at me smugly.I glance around me,For surely people would think me madFor whispering to a plastic utensil.No one took notice, and the spork smiles even more widely.What in the world could you possibly want? I asked.The spork shrugged.I rub my eyes, not believing what I was seeing.Could a plastic utensil shrug, I wonder.Drive you crazy, I guess. It replies.I jumped halfway to Mars.I couldnt believe what I was hearing either,And I was deaf!You can talk?! I yelp.People around me give me weird glances.A flush goes up to my cheeks.I had been tricked into insanity by a plastic utensil.No. Im not giving up just yet,I thought, if the spork could talk,Why not a fork or a spoon?I grab the aforementioned items from my neighbors,Earning me cries of protest,As the fork had been snatched outOf my buddys mouth,Gooey macaroni still on it.I
Collection of HaikusDanny PhantomIn the dawn sky,Our hero flies carefreelyHis green eyes aglow.DesperationThe leaves have fallenThe sky is gloomily grayIs hope lost yet?ComfortThe window is openA gentle breeze floats inDissolving my worries.Orange MonsterHiding in corners,The orange monster livesDespised by every-one.Final JudgmentThe line lasts foreverAnxiously we all waitFor our allowance.
The RoseIn my hand is a rose.The blossom is beautiful, and a luxurious crimson,Its glittery splendor gleaming in the sunlightEven though it is but a bud, yet to fully bloom.The rose has been cut.It once was part of a bush, a splendid, if thorny, bush.The thorns might sting, and make me yelp,But theyre there all the same.And they make the young rose what it is.No matter how much blood is drawn from my palm by my squeezing it,The thorns exist.And I am glad they do,For with the thorns, the rose is defined.With time, the thorns writhe, and disappear, and the rose blossoms.The pain in my hand throbs. I ignore it.Instead, I embrace it, hoping that the thorns will dissolve.I know they wont, but the pain can be eased.Throb. Throb. Throb.A streak of red falls from my palm,The color like the beautiful rose whose thorns have pricked me.The color of the very same rose whose life was cut short before it could bloom.I look over to the bush.The roses are still on it, some ma
Dirty SocksTheyve gone and did it again.My socks, white yet filthy,Have disappeared.I have to wonder,DO they have legs?It certainly would explain a lot,Especially the little holes in the hamper.I spot a sock under my bed,And dive to grab it.I clutch it in my hand, andIt winks back.I blink, and the sockFlees.I look over my shoulder,And saw nary a sock or a pet.No trace at allNot even a ball of lint.And then I hear a Ta-Da!I turn around and see my momWith a load of socks.All doing gymnastics.I laugh.My socks are turning into Harry Houdinis!
Free Plushie Patterns OnlineHere's a collection of links to sites outside of DeviantArt where you can find free plushie patterns. There are well over two hundred choices, so you're sure to find something you like.However, if you can't find exactly what you're looking for, try adapting one of the patterns. For example, a tiger can easily be turned into a lion, an elephant into a woolly mammoth, an elf into a goblin, or combine the upper half of a mermaid with the lower half of a pony to get a centaur.Note: some pages may need to be translated or require sign-up to view free patterns.Check out Pattern-Depot for stuffed toy and costume patterns here on DeviantArt.BEARSNight Garden Studios Jointed and Rag BearsBaby Bows BearScrappy Be