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Hey this is Bonnie. It makes me sad that no one has written anything…

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Hey this is Bonnie. It makes me sad that no one has written anything in this, so I'm going to post an essay I wrote for Ms. Russell's class on here. Don't worry about editing it, because it's due tomorrow morning.

Disclaimer: I am not much of a writer, and this assignment is mildly psycho, so be forgiving in your opinions of it.

Parking Lot

There was always a line trying to enter the lot. In waves of teal and cream, each car that left was promptly replaced by another vehicle filled with hungry patrons. Inside the store, children pressed their sopping mouths against the glass counters, undeterred by the half-hearted reproofs of their parents. On a grassy island in the center of the parking lot, families spread picnics bought within, the children kneeling to inhale greedy mouthfuls of pie between cartwheels. And in the afternoon sun, the warm asphalt was as inviting as any wooded state park or country club, an every day social gathering place where all were welcome.
Every morning, the deliveryman, laden with cans of peaches and vast tubs of biscuit dough, was hailed excitedly by the morning’s customers. His truck was always parked so it just blocked the exit, and he often fumbled the packages he carried and caused the contents to cascade onto the gravel, but his presence was still welcomed by the regulars.
At least once a day, the rush exceeded the space in the lot. Across the street, the excess customers grumbled as they were forced to cross the bustling street. As the early-bird customers traveled the short distance back to their cars, they congratulated themselves on their intelligence at arriving promptly enough to snag a convenient space of angle parking.
By nightfall, most of the cars have returned to their homes. Framed in the windows, the closing staff is scrubbing the tables and chairs in a drowsy trance. The graceful, dark-haired manager bolts the door, and hops into the last remaining car.
The parking lot is lonelier devoid of its sputtering daytime inhabitants. It seems larger in the moonlight. All that remains of the day’s fun is littered paper plates and pools of gasoline even thicker than the humid night air.
Suddenly, the empty lot is flooded with the glow of headlights. A grey-haired man exits his car reluctantly and unlocks the door, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes like a dog shaking off a heavy blanket. The new day’s business has begun.
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[User Picture]
On April 27th, 2006 01:03 pm (UTC), ihavefrogfear commented:
i like it.

anything that points out how twisted kids are, well, that's something that i respect greatly.
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