Photo by Mrs. Yollis |
Now, this is my comment and biography:
I am Wilbert the Flat Handball, and I am
here in heaven with tape on my leak. I am feeling better, and your stories comfort me. I hope you are having a blast wherever you are, and I hope the
others are having fun. Mary and Lucy are the only survivors of all of the
equipment, and I am using sunoculars to look at you guys having fun without me.
Please wait for me until I get back.
I have a story that I want to share that is
happening right now without anyone with me:
I bounced one hundred feet high to try to
have fun. I was in the middle of the sky wondering where my dear friends could
be. Albert the joker had been lost in the middle of the woods, while Lucy and
Mary were happily playing with the children. Lucy was being swung around for
Helicopter, while Mary was bounced around to play Four-Square . At last, I was up here with
my sunoculars that protect your eyes from the sun and are like binoculars.
I was searching for poor Albert when there was a sudden shake. It felt like a cloudquake! I used my hands to grip on as tight as I could, and suddenly, there was a jolt. The clouds turned way too thin to grip on, and I was there, flying down back to earth. When I finally reached earth, I fell with a vast "BANG!". I flew up in the sky again, and fell back to earth with as vast "BANG!", but now as loud. I flew and fell with a vast "BANG!" manifold of times, but it finally stopped, and I was there, sitting on a tree. I had another big leak, but luckily, the leak didn't let any air out. Nightfall was about to come, so I closed my eyes and slept...
I was searching for poor Albert when there was a sudden shake. It felt like a cloudquake! I used my hands to grip on as tight as I could, and suddenly, there was a jolt. The clouds turned way too thin to grip on, and I was there, flying down back to earth. When I finally reached earth, I fell with a vast "BANG!". I flew up in the sky again, and fell back to earth with as vast "BANG!", but now as loud. I flew and fell with a vast "BANG!" manifold of times, but it finally stopped, and I was there, sitting on a tree. I had another big leak, but luckily, the leak didn't let any air out. Nightfall was about to come, so I closed my eyes and slept...
I was awake, and ready for another big day.
I felt some pain, and I saw that I was on top of a very spiky tree. The tree
poked me, and I was helpless. This day was off to a horrible start!
I licked my cut like a dog would. I bounced off of the tree, and went to a restaurant. I stole some food for my hollow inside and rolled in the water so no one could see me. The waters were freezing! I realized that I was now stuck in theArctic Ocean . I built a boat made out of coral and
seaweed. Then I sailed out to Alaska
to get some shelter. I quietly rolled into someone's house and spent a night
there.
I licked my cut like a dog would. I bounced off of the tree, and went to a restaurant. I stole some food for my hollow inside and rolled in the water so no one could see me. The waters were freezing! I realized that I was now stuck in the
The next morning, when I woke up. I
found a bottle with some slimy water in it. I drank it, and when I did, I felt
super fast. I started rolling, and I thought I was going about 100 miles per
hour! I rolled and rolled until I reached the United States . No one could stop me
because I was going too fast for them to even notice me.
I had reached the very tip of Oregon , and almost in California . Something happened unexpected.
My potion ran out, and I was back as slow as a snail.
I went to the city, and saw a woman waving her hand for a taxi to come to her. As she stepped on, I secretly rolled onto the taxi's floor, waiting for something to happen. The taxi drove toLos Angeles ,
and the woman got off the car. I slipped out right at her feet, and when she closed
the door, I was already on my way to the suburban areas where my home is. I
rolled and rolled, and when I reached my suburb, dusk was on its way. The sun
was setting and I had to scout out to find some shelter. Like the last time, I
sneaked into someone's house and rolled under the owner's bed.
I went to the city, and saw a woman waving her hand for a taxi to come to her. As she stepped on, I secretly rolled onto the taxi's floor, waiting for something to happen. The taxi drove to
When that exhausting day passed, I,
Wilbert, was up and away! I ran like a cheetah and zoomed straight to my
home. When I got there, there was a metal gate, and I bounced over it, but I
got another colossal cut. "OWWWW!" I cried this time. This was extra
painful, but I endured the pain and kept on rolling. I reached the outside
of my house (my blue basket), and I was ready for a nap. Without even bothering to
jump in the basket, I took a nap.
The next day, some children found me lying
on the ground with my cuts. They took me and shot a picture. Now, this is what
happened. They posted me crying with my tattoo (The YOLLIS that is kind of
faint). They threw me in the trashcan, and I am using a broken computer that has
been recycled to write my biography.
Photo by Mrs. Yollis |
That is the end of my story, and if you have a story from the original post, Flat, please leave a comment.
@ Heather,
ReplyDeleteWow! There was nothing flat about your story! (Flat can mean dull or uninteresting! Can you tell that I love word play?)
It seems like Wilbur had a very eventful life. I used to see him every day in his net bag, and I though his life seemed very predictable and ordinary. After reading his biography, I can see he had a lot of ups and downs throughout his life.
As you can see, I added my photo to your post and gave the proper credit. Thank you for being such a conscientious (con•she•en•shus) blogger! What does conscientious mean?
Can you tell your readers what a biography is? What is the difference between a biography and an autobiography? Maybe you can add the definitions to the post.
Your story-loving teacher,
Mrs. Y♥llis
@ Mrs. Yollis,
DeleteYou asked what conscientious means. According to your words, I guessed that conscientious means something good, not bad. I went on Google and typed in: define conscientious. I came up with an answer like this:
con·sci·en·tious
ˌkänCHēˈenCHəs/Submit
adjective
1.
(of a person) wishing to do what is right, esp. to do one's work or duty well and thoroughly.
"a conscientious and hardworking clerk"
synonyms: diligent, industrious, punctilious, painstaking, sedulous, assiduous, dedicated, careful, meticulous, thorough, attentive, HARD-WORKING, studious, rigorous, particular; More
antonyms: casual
2.
relating to a person's conscience.
"the act does not provide exemption from service on the basis of personal conscientious beliefs"
You can see that hard-working, in the synonyms for conscientious, I used all capital letters for that word. Once I saw that, I definitely knew that this conscientious word meant something good to be said about. I would say that you are conscientious for both of your blogs because on your 365 blog, you have to post a post every day. Would you say your dog Buck is conscientious? If so, why? If not, why?
I know what the differences between a autobiography and a biography. They are both non-fiction (except I wrote a fake AUTObiography), and a biography is when someone ELSE writes about something. A autobiography is when the person being talked about is the author. I might not add the definition to this post, but I might make a whole separate post for autobiographies and biographies. Which do you think I should do?
Your learning-loving student,
Heather
Hello Heather
ReplyDeleteMy name is Sally Gajewski and I am a EDM310 student at the university of South Alabama. I loved reading your story it made sense to me on every level i was not confused at any point nor was I bored you did a wonderful job. Keep up the great work.
@ Sally,
DeleteThank you for leaving me a comment!
My story was not a easy one to come up with, and it took me about a hour to plan, and another hour to write the story. After when I read it, I was proud of my story, so I published it on Mrs. Yollis' 365 Project, and my blog. Do you have a story? Do you have a blog?
Sincerely,
Heather