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There was something about her when she came walking into the parking lot that made the whole place settle down when they saw her standing outside the Dairy Queen. It wasn’t so much the fact she was standing there with a brown, leather jacket zipped all the way up with some ragged blue jeans torn slightly at the near or the dirty, blue converse on her feet that looked like they’d had a tuff run. It also wasn’t the red hair combed back into a pony-tail with absolutely no grease or even the slightest hint of hair spray, or even the dark sunglasses her eyes hid behind, but you could tell they were glaring back at you like a rebel that matched the demeanor of her hand-on-hip stance. Even the backpack on her back wasn’t all that strange, and although it was the kind you wouldn’t find around here with its skulls embroidered with strange shapes, anyone could have easily put it off as having come from some other state.
No, it had to be the fact she had her hands wrapped around the strap of an elongated case that, to anyone who knew their stuff, looked a lot like a long-rifled gun, and that tied to the strap on her backpack by a leash was the strangest looking dog ever to be seen in Tulsa, Oklahoma. It had to be two-sizes too big; it’s head came up to her thigh and, despite the serene, sapphire hue in its eyes, those fangs lined on the bottom of its jaws, and the way it looked a little too much like a wolf— with its pointed ears and monochromatic fur, made it seem just as deadly as any junkyard dog.
Whatever it was, she didn’t seem to care, or maybe she was just used to it as she came up to the see-through door of the diner. She paused, though, and, like she’d done it all too often before, untied the leash and snapped her fingers at th...
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... one with ketchup only, fries and water to go,” the waitress spoke up behind them suddenly and dropped a paper bag with a wet, grease-stained bottom onto the counter.
“Thanks. What do I owe ya?” Wolf asked as she rummaged through a small pocket on the inside of her jacket.
“Seventy-five cents.” Wolf muttered something under her breath that made her laugh, but Pony couldn’t hear it, and he found his attention pulled away from it when she pulled out a roll of bills, and not just one dollar bills. She had a five and—his eyes just about bulged out of his head—a ten along with five ones. She didn’t even show a hint of reluctance when she whipped out a one, set it on the counter, told the waitress keep the change as she put her bills back, snagged the food, and turned back to them with an excited look.
“Wanna meet the big guy?”
Works Cited
S.E.Hilton Outsiders
In “The Stranger”, the protagonist, Monsieur Meursault, is characterized as cold, uncaring, and emotionally detached. Throughout the novel, Meursault expresses no emotions toward the death of his very own mother, the proposed marriage between the woman, Marie Cardona, who became his lover, and to the actual murder of a man he didn’t know. While the jury at his trial sees him guilty because his uncommon and disassociated demeanor shows that he willfully intended to murder the Arab on the beach, a variety of psychologists would instead diagnose Meursault with Major Depressive Disorder, Antisocial Personality Disorder, and Asperger’s Syndrome in order to characterize his indifferent thought patterns. If Meursault is suffering from Major Depressive Disorder, he is unable to function as a normal person would which ultimately leads the jury to believe that he is actually a cold blooded killer. Antisocial Personality disorder, like Major Depressive Disorder, causes Meursault to communicate a disregard for the lives of others and lacks remorse when he harms and even kills the Arab.
After six years, she finally earned it. She was now a typical American teenager. She was even what you would consider a “popular kid”. She had her friends, and her thick accent was not so thick anymore, even if it was not gone. However, there was still one thing that separated her from the rest of her group, and every time she introduced herself to a new person she knew that.
Writing is powerful. Donald Murray, the author of the Stranger in the Photo is Me, utilizes the strength words provide to make his past come alive vibrantly. Through selective language and image, he paints a picture so vivid, everything he expresses comes to life.
Joad is a nickel short of the 15 cents that the bread cost, and against the waitresses
Paul, the child, knew that his family wanted money, and he knew that he was lucky, betting on the horses. Paul became partners with the gardener. He picked the horse, and the gardener placed the bet. Paul had started out with five shillings but his winnings kept adding up. When he had made 10,000 pounds he decided to give his mother 1000 pounds a year for five years. He wanted his winnings to be a secret so a lawyer handled the money. Paul saw the envelope from the lawyer and asked his mother if she had received anything good in the mail. She said "Quite moderately nice" (p. 168) in a cold voice. She liked getting the money, but she wasn't happy. She wanted more.
3. What does Alma’s plan for the twenty dollar bill show about her? What does the discussion about both the money and the paperboy indicate about their own
A buyer brings along with him snacks that he would like to purchase in a dollar store: chocolate chip cookies, a Pepsi, gummy bears, and a bag of chips. He waits in line, eager to consume this huge delight. It is his turn, and he hurriedly placed his treats on the counter, waiting anxiously to pay immediately. The cashier replies to him, “The price will be $5.99, sir.” The buyer takes out five one-dollar bills and four quarters. Not an instance did he ever use a penny in this case, which he thought was useless and meaningless. As you can see, the penny has become quite worthless and diminished in purpose. Many citizens would prefer to round up and pay rather than spend time and look in their
The Stranger, a novel written by Albert Camus shows a world were being authentic is impossible. Meursault, the main character, is a strange person from the point of view of society and at the end of the book he is sentenced to death “for killing an Arab.” The society that judges Meursault as a stranger is the representation of our world, and Meursault is a person who tries to live his live following what he thinks is important in life; he is authentic. Meursault lives in a world really different from the real world. At the end of the book it is seen how the prosecutor, a “lawyer” of the state, defines Meursault as a person that is very different from the rest of society. The reason why Meursault is different from the rest of the world is that he doesn’t have the same ideals than society, and the things that society things are important Meursault considers them as unimportant. By having different reasons to live life, Meursault lives separated from society; he lives in a separate world. At the end of the book Meursault is obligated to come to reality. The judgment of Meursault let us see the impossibility of the. Meursault is not only himself but also a representation of the people how try to be different, and the prosecutor and the rest of the society are a reflection of our own world. The whole book is a reflection of our world.
The commander came close and rubbed it between his fingers before letting it fall back against Chronicler’s chest. “Keep it then. I’m not one to come between a man and his religion,” he said, then emptied the purse into one hand, making a pleasantly surprised noise as he prodded through the coins with his finger. “Scribing pays better than I thought,” he said as he began to count out shares to his men.
French author and playwright Albert Camus once said, “He who despairs over an event is a coward, but he who holds hope for the human condition is a fool.” In the The Stranger and The Guest this philosophy is expanded on by demonstrating how those who do not conform to society are isolated, and portrayed as a threat to society because of their unique beliefs.
We meet strangers everywhere we go. They come from all walks of life. We can choose to ignore them or to talk to them. I have judged people based on the way they walk, talk, dress or the way they approached me. These judgments tend to stick with me even if I find out who they really are. I don 't think it is right to get judgmental when I first approach a person. I feel so bad when I find out who they really are isn 't who I thought they were. It just seems to happen so naturally. I guess it is just human nature. I can relate this to my senior high school days. Most of the judgments I made about people never helped me because it got me into bad company. In a short story ‘Strangers’, a stranger hurt and lied to Toni Morrison about who she was. She was really hurt by the stranger because she had misjudged her about who she was. She did not expect a woman, who looked so humble, would do such a thing. I can relate to her story because I also misjudged someone and ended up getting hurt.
By Christmas she had saved up one dollar and eighty-seven cents. She was so distraught about only having one dollar and eighty-seven cents to buy a...
An Essay on. The Stranger; The Absurd One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all.
Existentialism is defined as "a philosophical theory or approach that emphasizes the existence of the individual person as a free and responsible agent determining his or her own development through acts of the will”. In other words, existentialism it emphasizes individual freedom. Throughout The Stranger, the amount of existentialism views is abundant. The use of Mersault’s experiences covey the idea that human life has no meaning except for simple existence. The idea of existentialism in Albert Camus' The Stranger reflects through Mersault's life experiences with his relationship with Marie, the death of his mother Maman, the murdering of the Arab, and Mersault's trial and execution, all these events show that Mersault’s life of no meaning.
The dark, black sky was covered with a million bright shining stars. The moon shimmered above a small town in the suburbs of London. The gentle wind swept past the bare trees and danced with the leaves below it, creating a colourful array of orange, yellow, red and brown. Across the street, a light was on in a small house where a tall, dark haired woman stood, talking to her two children Nicola and Erin. While she was tucking them in Erin asked, “Mummy, will you tell us a story please?” “I’m sorry but its time to go to sleep now,” she said. “Please mummy,” begged Nicola “Okay but only one story,” she replied “This story is about how I got lost when I was a young girl and how I met an incredible man. It all began when…”