Joey Monologue

Early that morning, newly hired park ranger, Jennifer Flores, stuffed a banana into the blender and mixed up a high energy chocolate drink. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her face was clean and free of makeup. She was dressed in a black jogging outfit that hugged her body tightly and showed off her shape. She poured her drink into a glass and guzzled it down like she was in a beer chugging contest with her sorority sisters.

Face pale with terror, Adam's shaky hand moved to switch on the bedside lamp. Images of Fire and Brimstone, and writhing figures, - men, women and children all - screaming in pain as flames consumed their bodies, flowed through his mind. Eyeballs exploded, and liquefied flesh oozed into fiery lava pits, leaving nothing but a collapsed pile of charred bones on the ground before moments later the victim's human form was resurrected in its entirety, and subjected to the same agonising fate again. Over and over, ad infinitum.

The rain had just stopped pouring, and we had all gathered in a park nearby, as a makeshift memorial for Johnny. It wasn’t really a funeral, we didn’t have the budget for that, and it wasn’t like his parents cared enough to give him a proper goodbye.

After being escorted by the police to the hospital me and Ponyboy dashed with excitement to Johnny’s room. Before we could get even an inch in the door the doctor stopped us in our tracks. The doctor said “he is dying”. Before I could think I pulled out two-bit's switchblade. I wasn't going to let some punk doctor keep me from seeing my friend. Instead of what I thought the doctor was going to do he let us see Johnny.

I kept writing. It was hard, but I could get everything off of my chest. I could explain to people what had happened to me. I could tell my English teacher. It was a little hard, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. Greasers didn’t cry.

Thank you for your response and question. I could only hope that her family would notice she was not home. Now, how long would it take? I think maybe a few days depending on if she had things around the house that she had to do. I don’t know any other outcomes that come to mind when Connie is basically being forced in to this guy’s car to be driven to only god knows where to possibly be raped or murdered all because she was getting any kind of affection from her mother and aunt who were too busy comparing Connie to her sister. I wish we could have known how long has the house and Connie’s family been watch by this guy. I kind of wish this story had a better ending or maybe an alternate ending where she was able to get away and get help or Arnold’s

I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything.

I pull up and fuck your daughter, sike nah let me stop. I ain't 21 Savage and I ain't Lil Yatchy,

My name is Mayella Ewell. I belong to the lowest of the low amongst the whites in Maycomb. I grew up in a poor family and never received any proper education. The only I have is probably being white. My dad and I want to have a better life, but dad doesn’t want to put any effort into doing so. My mom died when I was young and I became a surrogate wife for my dad. I wish I could have gone to school, but I have to take care of my children. My dad loves to go out and drink for the whole day. When he comes home, he often drunk and this is when he would rape me.

Tom Robinson is dead. It does not have an effect on me, although people do seem impacted by the news. I honestly don’t understand how it is possible to still feel any emotion from these kind of stories, since they happen so often. If the inhabitants of Maycomb reacted like this for every black man charged for a non-existent rape we would never leave the courtroom. The trials are not particularly interesting either, considering most of the black defendants end up dead.

The best living or dead hands down huh? Less talk more head right now huh? And my eyes more red than the devil is

I see people go through there Dailey routine like they are robots They're faces have no expressions and they have no thoughts Like an assembly line they organize Who knows what they see If I stepped in there shoes how would I see me Are they human Do they have a brain Are they being controlled, like someone controls an animal with rains I won't ever know what it's like to not be me

An elongated car ride was taken to an abrupt halt as hyperventilation commenced. I compelled myself to pull over alongside a gravel road near hiking trails. My heart seemed as if it escaped my body, as it was pounding so profoundly against my chest. The news I had received had changed my life completely. Hot tears appeared instantly upon my cheeks, but my eyes were still.

Well, like you said it's her money and she earned it. She actually is sitting down and taking time to learn what she needs to know as we can see when she's on her bed looking through documents. She knows her shit even if it's only a bit and you can she that with the way she interacts with that guy she's helping sell the apartment. She's takes HUGE ass risks but she's not stupid.

Hello I am Mr. Green but you can call me chase. I am a con man. Some one has found my info and he has invited me to a dinner party. I am going to go to it and kill him. I will do it with a knife. I will show up talk to him. Then once he is not looking I will kill him. It is a full proof plan. But the outer guess. They are mustard, prof. Plum Dr. Orchid, miss scarlet, and Mrs. white.