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This current point in time is strange. Never would I have thought I’d be experiencing a pandemic. Now, I do online learning. I don’t necessarily like it, because days are too short and I feel like I’m drowning in work, though I’m not. However, this isn’t what I’m going to ramble about, because I’m sick of hearing about Covid 19.
This morning, I slept through my alarm and no one came to wake me, so I missed my first class. I made a steaming cup of Joe, forgetting to pour a small volume of almond milk. “aaah!”, I yelped after feeling the wrath of Satan unleash on my tongue. Very simply, I burnt my tongue and I’ve been enduring it.
With my coffee, I decided to make toast. As I was shaking some cinnamon onto the buttered bread, a decapitation occurred. It was a gruesome crime scene! And I knew I had to conceal the accident before the police arrived. My chest filling with anxiety as I frantically cleaned up my involuntary manslaughter.
To my luck, my mother caught me red-handed discarding the evidence. Right there and then, she interrogated me, not letting me leave until the truth was exposed. I sinned. Thinking on your feet is difficult, especially as my mother knows me well, she can tell whether it is the truth or not. I blamed my pet bird on it. I lied, claiming that the small, thirty-gram budgerigar had flown across the room to the kitchen and spilt the cinnamon. Unfortunately, he had an alibi; the cage was locked, and he was calmly staring at the bird in the mirror.
I wasn’t sentenced. Just let off with a warning, to remember to vacuum the floor and apologise to the adorable creature that chirps all day long.
This morning, I slept through my alarm and no one came to wake me, so I missed my first class. I made a steaming cup of Joe, forgetting to pour a small volume of almond milk. “aaah!”, I yelped after feeling the wrath of Satan unleash on my tongue. Very simply, I burnt my tongue and I’ve been enduring it.
With my coffee, I decided to make toast. As I was shaking some cinnamon onto the buttered bread, a decapitation occurred. It was a gruesome crime scene! And I knew I had to conceal the accident before the police arrived. My chest filling with anxiety as I frantically cleaned up my involuntary manslaughter.
To my luck, my mother caught me red-handed discarding the evidence. Right there and then, she interrogated me, not letting me leave until the truth was exposed. I sinned. Thinking on your feet is difficult, especially as my mother knows me well, she can tell whether it is the truth or not. I blamed my pet bird on it. I lied, claiming that the small, thirty-gram budgerigar had flown across the room to the kitchen and spilt the cinnamon. Unfortunately, he had an alibi; the cage was locked, and he was calmly staring at the bird in the mirror.
I wasn’t sentenced. Just let off with a warning, to remember to vacuum the floor and apologise to the adorable creature that chirps all day long.