Dennis Rander Monologue

He sits down next to a teacher at the art table when she invites him for an art activities by calling his name. He watches teacher's demonstration of the art work without any moving. When she shouts, "Go ahead", he says, "What is this?" as picking one leaf up with fingers on the tray. He moves it on the green paper. He picks up a stick, dip into a glue jar with a right hand while holding the jar with a left hand. He taps the stick couple of times on the jar and scribbles on the paper up and down. When the paper tumbles a little bit, he holds the tip of the paper with the other hand firmly not to move. He puts down the stick next to the glue jar, picks up dry leaves and places them on the glue part of his paper. He taps his pointy finger on the table couple of times and grabs some more leaves and pastes them on the paper. He says, "I am done." and moves toward a drying shelf with his art work on his two hands. He places it between shelves carefully. He dips his hands into the bucket filled with water next to the art table couple of times and dries with a towel.

“The setting plays an important role in how the narrator discovers the many ways he may die” (2). It is a dungeon full of torturing traps, and the character, as any normal human, feels terror inside his prison and fears his death in any of the cruel ways arranged for him. Still, he has to decide between death and the relief which it brings or life with the interminable agony of being tortured as a lab mouse.

"Bye mom!" I yell as I walk out the door on my way to school. My mom reminds

I peeped my head out out from the cloth like a curious meerkat, then scooted out from under the table. I grinned inward and glanced at my laced up boots. If I was in heels I would not have been able to do that.

Killing must feel good to god too… he does it all the time. Without hesitation, without a scratch of a though against his head he lets it happen and he lets the action run its course again and again and again.

Fear wafts throughout the air, weighing down on Amy's already heavy shoulders. She dashes to the bathroom intent on saving the pesky house guest from the endless pit it may now have to call home. Reaching into the germ infested loo, she pulls out a minuscule being shivering uncontrollably. The pest is soon bound into a tight bundle, engulfing it as though smothered by its mother. Once it is nursed back to health, Amy creates a dream home for it outside on our steps. Watching from a distance, she beams as it returns to its natural habitat. Just one pesky mouse, clearly not cared about by our cat, my parents nor I, somehow, Amy finds it within herself to put this unsightly mouse above her own

Morning arrived too quickly. Hector was awakened by George, his five year old brother, a lively brown eyed boy, full of laughter and joy.

When he was 5, his birth mother returned from the big city all furious and angry. He left her alone until it came to dinner time when she had calmed down a bit. He sat down as per usual, with the fork and spoon in his hand and when she walked over with the food he would bang and kick the table. Considering that his birth mother had just come home furiously, she had had enough of the silly little games. She walked over with the food, and placed it gently on the table whilst Curley was still banging and kicking. After she places the food down on the table she quickly reacted and tried to grab the cutlery out of Curley’s hand but missed. She accidentally grabbed the hand and jerked it around which caused it to injure Curley. Curley then yelped and clenched his

“I’m Rafe.” He kept one arm up holding his sign and lowered his other to offer his hand for a shake. I accepted the gesture and wished it wasn’t so cold and drizzly that I’d chosen to bundle up with mittens this morning. The unseasonable late spring weather was the only damper on the day. I wanted this man’s skin against mine. I would have his skin against mine. It had been too damn long.

“Thank you. As hard I’ve worked, I doubt there are many young ladies around to hoodwink me. I can see one now, saying to me, “Would you be shocked if I put on something more comfortable? Even if one would rub my nose in her pussy, I doubt I’ll take the bait.

Lennie doesn't seem to have the same thoughts about death as other people have. Death doesn’t really matter to him. His mental disability makes him closer to an animal than to a human.

and me Sally, my sister said. Do you know him ,I asked. No, what else could I say he has a gun.

I pray this letter has reached you safely, else I would be unable to explain my grim fate to you. However, it is likely you know the precise events which followed our brief encounter as you greatly influenced what happened henceforth. Nonetheless, I will continue to tell the tale of my woes in case you have overlooked something. Let me begin by introducing myself: I am Roger Mubin, the little boy who you lured into your home after he had attempted to mug you. If you have forgotten this name, know I have never forgotten yours, Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones. That name is forever ingrained in my mind, as if you have taken a knife and carved it in my brain. I apologize for my harsh tone, yet I am sure you understand as I have been rotting

I am on the hospital bed laying here thinking what did i do to deserve such a horrible life.

I was quite shocked by Mario’s antics. But, it shocked me even more when he changed for the better after receiving a lot of forgiveness from his community. Mario was probably forgiven because the people might’ve known that they can help change him and maybe they also realized that he was going through a lot. Although I am not sure if Mario should’ve been forgiven, it seemed to be exactly what he needed in life. Forgiving Mario also changed him for the better.