Descriptive Essay: Half-Devoured Cookie

1498 Words3 Pages

Nothing. Nothing is there. I blink in incredulity as a half-devoured cookie drops from my mouth- wide open in shock- to my dilapidated sneakers, laden in dirt. Perfect, can’t eat that now. Agh. I plop down onto the street curb in frustration. My eyes moisten and my stomach turns. I’m about to cry. Over a cookie. My poor, half-devoured cookie. Which still looks so heavenly, even laying there in the midst of the road, dressed in specks of dirt. My cookie. A tear glides down my cheek. God, this is so ridiculous. I rest my arms in my legs, and my head in my arms. And suddenly I see it. Chocolate daubed all over my newly purchased and already destroyed black jeans. “Crap!” I mutter. My body tosses itself into a paroxysm of angry movements, maybe …show more content…

And you still,” I inhale and exhale indignantly, “haven’t moved your foot.” He moves his foot. “Oh my, Lukey Pookey!” a woman exclaims, hobbling over the piles of leaves in the yard. “Strangers are bad! Get away! Get away! Come to mommy!” Luke spins around, chagrined. “Oh wait. Is this a friend? Do you have a friend? You haven’t had one since kindergarten! I was starting to think I would have to get you a therapist!” “Mom!” “Mom? What happened to ‘mommy’? You were calling me mommy just 5 minutes ago! You are growing up so quick! First a friend and now you call me mom. All in just one day!” His mother shifts to face me. “IT’S A GIRL! Your friend is a girl! A.. girlfriend… A GIRLFRIEND! DID MY LUKEY POOKEY FINALLY GET A GIRLFRIEND?” “Shut up, Mom,” he grumbles under his breath, bitterly. I can tell he is envious of me. He would so love it if is house took off with his mom still inside. I could see it in his eyes. His tired, twitching eyes. I struggle to suppress a giggle, but all that comes out is- “Hrigrifachiach.” The happy expression plastered on his mother’s face turns concerned for a brief moment, then bounces back to pleased. “So, what were you two talking about?” Luke’s mother …show more content…

“Where’d you get this one from? The looney bin?” His mom scoffs and shuffles back inside. Out of the corner of my eye I see her take a seat on a recliner conveniently placed by the window, and peek out from beyond the curtains. “I’m sorry about her,” Luke mumbles, noticeably perturbed. “What’s your—uh—your address?” “Excuse me?” I scoff. “Your address. You said your house is ‘missing’, maybe I can—er—help you find it if I know where it is. Or I—I mean was.” My mouth forms the shape of an ‘o’ as his words settle into the cracks and crevices of my likely quite small brain. I involuntarily let out a “hah”, and then without hesitation, give him my address. I mean, what could possibly happen if I gave him, a stranger, my address? He technically isn’t even a stranger, I know his name. I think it’s like… James, or something? He glares at me blankly. “What?” I say crossly. “You’re in the wrong neigh—hiccup—borhood,” he chuckles amusedly. “The wrong… neighborhood?” I raise one eyebrow in confusion. “Yeah. You—um—must have gotten off at the wrong bus stop, assuming you were on your way home from school when you realized your house was ‘missing,’” he pokes fun at

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