Mr Robison Monologue

As you may know, I am what you may consider a creep or freak. I'm here to explain the incident that occurred during that Skype call in early August.

“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.

Ralph never should have been made chief. He does not let anyone have fun. All he does is boss us around. Thank god I left his tribe. Now I have my hunters who obey my every command. Now I have the respect I deserve. I am built to be a chief. I am strong, confident, assertive, and I don’t let feelings get in the way. And Ralph thinks he can come to my side of the island? No way. I am in charge here and he needs to leave. How dare he call me a thief in front of my hunters? Who cares if Piggy needs his specs. That fatty does nothing all day so there is no use for his glasses. That so called “chief” can’t even fight well. Ralph deserves a good beating for constantly going up against me. He thinks he is better than me just because of that stupid

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

Fear surges through you like a river at high water as you slowly creep up to the murky,

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

It all started in 1st grade at recess. The bell rang and Stacy and I both ran to the swings. We both got on and swung as high as we could. I looked over and saw Gavin.

I appreciate your input; of course value your opinions, so your opinion is duly noted:

I became so much better than I was the year before that I was able to join the team at districts that year. I may still had have my sister's hammy downs, but I was more confident and more skilled in the game. Each year I got better with more experience, and became higher on the list of players on the team. Sadly after a couple of tournaments during the golf season junior year, I severely injured my wrist. I pulled a tendon, had a gap between my growth plates, and lost blood flow to a bone just in one wrist. I was out of the game for six months with tons of physical therapy, but what my failure from seventh grade had taught me was not to give up. During the time of my injury I helped the team by coaching them during practice and being a cheerleader. I may not have been able to play, but at least I was there for the team and gained some more knowledge of the sport from watching. Right after my injury was healed I went right back to practice. I know have arthritis in my wrist and there are days that I can not practice because it hurts, but I pushed through it. The whole year was hard on me but I was able to make the team again. This year I am no longer in the top five of the team, but I am still able to play and help the team

There was a boy whose name was Tom, but everyone called him by his last name, Rorke. Funnily enough he shared a name with his best friend and my brother, Thomas, who was nicknamed Toby for some drunken reason that I can’t begin to comprehend. Rorke and Toby were thick as thieves for as long as I can remember. When they were together, there was always a constant laughter that filled the room and they were always relaxed around each other. They also had a knack for getting into trouble, so it was a good thing that Rorke had enough charisma to charm they’re way out of anything. In the fashion of any best friendship, you could always find Rorke with Toby or vice versa, which is how I got to know Tom and I’m glad I did.

As I stepped on the field, I knew the next few minutes could make or break my college options. Although I was only a freshman, if I were able to make varsity, college would be closer in reach. The first feed I had from behind cage was low, my stick drug the ground as if I was using a shovel, I cradled through the ball and somehow came up with it, no problem. My next challenge was to finish the shot. As I made a fake and the ball plummeted to the ground, I knew I needed to step up my game. The second pass came right into the pocket of my stick, I faked low and shot high, directly into the top corner of the goal. I slowly jogged off the field, behind me I faintly heard “way to go kid”, I knew it must have been the varsity coach.

The baby deer walks up to Jack. Her big brown eyes looking up at him

The other stuff? That stuff is irrelevant. Focus on your target and you’ll do much better, I promise. Someday, you’ll get there. It’s not going to get easier, you’re just going to get better.” he says after he retrieves the ball himself. I set the ball down and shut my eyes. I looked at the top right corner and focused on that exactly. The ball was wide again. How could I have missed? I did what I was told and somehow I was wide yet another time. I stayed at the school yard for hours that day, aiming for that same corner every time, but to no avail. Someday, I did curve it into that haunting corner. It wasn’t luck, but determination. It didn’t get easier, I just got better, just like my dad said I would. Even today, nearly 6 long years later, I can still hear his words echoing as if that monumental Tuesday afternoon was just yesterday. In my times of distress, I simply focus on my target and blur everything else out because nothing else is relevant. I may not achieve my goals the first time, but I will always try again. After all, it won’t get easier, but I will get better. My ultimate aspiration in life is the back of the opposing team’s net. To me, free kicks are easy opportunities I may get somewhere down the

As we started, the balls were coming towards the back row. But sadly my luck didn’t last for long. A ball came right towards me. I wasn’t expecting it but instead blocking it from coming over to our side. I used my hands to block my face. I sighed in sadness, hoping the coach wasn’t looking.

The prison cell was hardly six feet by six feet, just a hollow prism of concrete with a callous opening of thick metal bars. There was only one way in and one way out. I lose the sense of time in here just like my old home, I couldn’t even tell if it was day or night, all I have are my thoughts and this pencil and paper. This place is bewildering by layout, so quiet that anyone could forget their own name. I haven’t, Arthur Radley is my name but you might know me as Boo, the name that has been given to me from the people’s monstrous perceptions. Maycomb’s townspeople have an unreasonable view of me, they all portray me to have mental issues, that I am an enigma and not safe to be around. I don’t know how these people got these views as I am