Who knew that picking up a random piece of cloth would force you into a band, and become part of a mafia conspiracy theory? Six o’clock. Nothing like having an blaring alarm scream into your ear to remind you you’re alive. Quickly pulling off the covers, I head downstairs, being the chirpy kid as I clap my feet together. Or, when looking back at it, the last of my innocence. Turning the sharp turn into the kitchen, I grab the stale bread from the covers, stuffing it into the toaster. Next, I grab the recipe I really wanted to try, and...I lost you already, didn’t I? Okay, so you don’t want to hear about my daily routine. Instead, you might be wondering what kind of trouble I’m brewing in? Be patient. Carrying the breakfast tray upstairs, …show more content…
My body stood in place, frozen as my mind clicked with two scenarios. One, wait for Toby and book it. Or, two, check it out. I barely noticed that Toby rode down and fall straight on his face, nervously laughing and rhetorically asking, “How awesome are we? Awesom-!”
“Shh!” Toby went from laughing to concern within’ seconds. He looked up at me and froze in place. Our eyes met, talking to each other through eye movements. What’s happening? He asked as his brow rose. My eyes darted to the side, pointing to the puddle of dried blood on the ground. Then, Toby notice another thing. He gasped as he quickly stood up, only to be met with a nearby bullet. We both look around as context soon filled the scene.
Someone was down here, and they were shot for one reason or another. They weren’t shot once, no, there were multiple bullets on the ground. Either they kept missing or they shot the poor man four, five- no, eight times. But, where was the body? “Jim, we gotta go, now.” Toby tugged at my arm, and another thought shot through my head. Nobody had call the police yet. “Tobes, this just happened
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“Wait, what?” Turning towards the voice, the tall figure of Mr. Strickler loomed over me. Thought having a trusting charm, I feel like his director’s attitude would come out if I messed up. Wait, can that attitude come out towards a student or only for band kids? Pulling out his signature pen out of his jacket, he ask, “With Herodotus opinion on his tactics of war, as I’ve described.” Ah. Yes. Of course. I wasn’t listening. I hear Toby panic and quickly click away the tabs, whistling like nothing ever happened. Pretending to appear confident, I answer, “Absolutely!” “Excellent! Which tactics, specifically?” Fuck. “The, uh…” Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-! “Winning ones?” The classroom burst with laughter as the bell rings, Mr. Strickler having a chuckle to himself as well. “Alright, alright!” He tried to calm down the classroom. I quickly try to gather my things, barely hearing what he told us what to study for. “Jim, may I have a word?” Clenching my teeth, I blindy reach for my bag, only to drop it on the floor. Mr. Strickler sighed, helping me pick up my belongings as he says, “Jim, you’re distracted. You fell asleep between the invasion of Attica and the Peace of Nicias, and your attention wander for the rest of class.” “Sorry, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” Though it wasn’t the real reason I was distracted, I wasn’t exactly lying either. “I know it’s just you and your mother, and you want to help
John Gotti John Gotti: The American Mobster This is a story about a New York mobster, who was the Godfather of the Gambino Family. Today he is serving a life sentence in Marion Federal Penitentiary on 43 counts of racketeering, multiple murders, loan sharking, gambling, and even jury tampering. John Gotti was born October 27, 1940 in the Bronx. John Gotti had 12 other brothers and sisters.
The brother shot at him first. He didn't know it was his brother it was dark. There was smoke in the air. He could barely see across the way . His brother shot him in the arm. He didn’t want to be found dead up there in the morning. He had to find a way down, but he was shooting at him.
It seems as if the actions of the history teacher have backfired. While one expects the students to play idyllically together, just the opposite is true. They torment the other children, “messing up their hair and breaking their glasses” (Collins 17). It is ironic that the teacher wants to protect his students’ innocence because they are the bullies of the school, while the teacher is the one who is sheltered. By lying to his students, downplaying tragic events and creating an unrealistic rosy picture of the world, the teacher has created an ironic situation. The students have become opposite of what he was trying to accomplish, rotten human beings who torture the other children because they have not learned right from wrong and what the consequences are. Collins’ message in “The History Teacher,” of those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, comes through loud and
As I walk to the front of the classroom, time seems to slow to a crawl. I take a glance at a sea of blank faces staring back at me. You would have thought I would be use to this sensation by now. I know what to expect and have been through these motions a hundred times, but as I walk up to the stage, determined not to cower in defeat, the notecards I grasp firmly in defiance quiver slightly exposing my sense of dread. So while I often triumph over this battle, I now stood atop that classroom stage preparing to recite the merits of James Madison that I had poured myself over the past few weeks. I had the lingering thought that throughout the sea of faces there were those who were paying less attention to what I was saying and more attention to how I was saying it.
Dick Hickock stood motionless, watching as his companion, Perry Smith fired his shotgun into the heads of each member of the Clutter family, sending blood and brains splashing against the wall. What would drive a man to do this? With a cold-blooded fire in his eyes, Perry moved from one person to the next, splattering the country house with brain matter. This terrible
A man carrying two revolvers and two 9mm semi-automatic handguns calmly strode into the Dunblane Primary School. Two people quickly spotted the firearms and tried to tackle the man; he shot them and left them wounded as he continued his journey down the hall of the school. Finally, the man reached his destination: the gym, where a class a kindergartners were having P.E. In the gym, he pulled out the guns and started picking off the five-year-olds one by one. The room was splattered with blood as young children broke like porcelain dolls under the power of the gun. The blood continued to flow, but the intruder did not stop; he took careful aim to make sure he didn't miss. The final insult came when he shot the teacher who was shielding kids with her body. Once he killed her, he killed the kids she was protecting. When he finished in the gym , he turned around walked out, shot at a class as he walked down the hall and walked out into the courtyard. In the courtyard, the killer ended the ordeal by taking his own life (Pederson).
The gangster genre within films in America has accomplished numerous positive criticisms and constant willing audiences due to containing outstanding spectacles and mind-blowing action. The Godfather, being second on the IMDb Top 250 Movies, has set a new popular concept to life within the Mafia from their point of view. Doing so, creating a positive association. Yet within Italy, the same topic contains a complete different view. Movies such as I Cento Passi demonstrate unenthusiastic view by those whom are outside yet negatively affected by those members. Unlike American films, the gangsters are not as often viewed at the protagonist and are the main causes for the problematic events. But how different is Italian Mafia and American Mafia in cinema?
During 1869-2014 the Sicilian mafia in America evolved in a number of ways such as: the change in rules, leaders, how it is run, the change in code and power over American society. These topics will be covered throughout this essay and will give you a detailed explanation furthermore the history of the evolution that took place. The Sicilian Mafia started in poor Sicilian ghettos in America and spread into the cities striking fear into the American society. With around 2,500 members it is seen as the most powerful and the most active Italian organized criminal group in the United States of America. The Sicilian mafia is more commonly known as La Cosa Nostra.
...lid “Prohibition: What If?”) The lasting repercussions of organized crime still endure in America today. Although, alcohol is very much legal once again, organized crime now lies in the hands of drug lords who smuggle various types of illicit drugs into the United States every day.
In the novel, The Wednesday Wars, by Gary D. Schmidt, Holling finds out that his new teacher, Mrs. Baker, wants him to spend every Wednesday afternoon with her, catching up on schoolwork and learning new things, such as reading Shakespeare books and taking tests on them. At first, Holling thinks that it is because Mrs. Baker “hates his guts,” but after a while, he establishes a good relationship with her and she helps him in many areas, even outside of the classroom. The three literary elements addressed in this stunning book are conflict, characterization, and tone.
Philip gets into big trouble. Miss Narwin sends him to the vice-principal’s office for humming the national anthem. He gets suspended for a week. It is the nature of the disturbance, humming during the Star Spangled Banner that creates a huge controversy. A chain reaction of events turns the conflict into a patriotic issue.
...and walked home.” Collins contrasts the students’ misbehavior with the teacher’s ignorance, thus implying a relationship between the history teacher’s inability to teach his students and their ensuing misbehavior.
First, I will tell you about the conspiracy behind the Illuminati. The Illuminati was created by German thinker Adam Weishaupt in the 18th century (“Meet the Man Who Started the Illuminati.”). He created this secret society that nobody knew about, making this a very prestigious group. Adam Weishaupt lived a very conventional life, very average, he went worked as a professor
With that, Wendy turned and strolled down the hall, hearing the sound of Mr. McClean’s knees crashing onto the ground with a thump, his hands swinging against the door with a whack. Suddenly, a tense silence filled the hall, electrifying the atmosphere, and then, Wendy listened to Mr. McClean’s petrifying screams and the lions intimidating roars with satisfaction and glee.
Ding-dong! “Uh-oh”, I think, wiping my hands on a paper towel. “They must be here early.” It’s six-thirty, my guests aren’t due to arrive until seven, and I am already a half-hour behind. The lobsters are still boiling on the stove, the chunky potatoes are rock-hard and my spinach salad lies in pieces all over the kitchen floor. Things aren’t off to such a good start.