Todd the demon is a he, now, if only because Granny Ethel insists upon using copious ‘Dear boy, keep trying’ and ‘Atta boy!’ critiques to varying degrees depending on how well his needlework, crochet, and knitting attempts progress.
Gender isn’t a concept the demon concerned himself with before. If Todd had been, say, a girl named Tonya, he supposes he’d be a she instead. If Todd had been gender-neutral and properly communicated with his grandmother, he supposes she would call him they or child, appropriately. Granny Ethel isn’t one to discriminate. Even when she properly wears her glasses and sees his obviously un-Todd-like appearance, only shaking her head and smiling with a good-natured “kids these days” on her lips. But he wouldn’t mind
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The neighbor—Maurice, if he remembers Granny Ethel’s gossip correctly—stands frozen, watering can dangling limp from his hand as he overwaters the begonias at his feet, mouth hanging open in undignified disbelief.
“Good morning, Maurice!” Granny Ethel calls with unmitigated cheer, and a hint of pride. “Nice morning, isn’t it? Oh! Have you met my wonderful grandson Todd? He finally came to visit! We’re going shopping now. Will you watch my house?”
Maurice simply stares, dumb with shock.
Halfway down the block, another neighbor’s car brakes with a squeal before they make it out of the driveway and they stick their head out of the window to gape.
Shutters crack open. Curtains are shoved aside.
Before Todd knows it, they are the cul-de-sac’s center of attention.
Granny Ethel doesn’t pay it any mind and continues obliviously on, waving to each face in turn as those faces pale, yet hers remains rosy.
“My, such a busy day today. I haven’t seen everyone out like this since the Fourth of July block party. Oh, if you’re still here during summer, Todd, we should definitely take part. Maybe we should start knitting an American flag for the occasion. What do you
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He supposes he does, if she says he does. Far be it from him to contradict her adolescent-savvy wisdom.
Even so, the single shopping cart is far too small for all of the spoils—halfway through the shopping list, he finds them in need of another. It isn’t an issue. Many are left scattered, abandoned, around almost every corner. By the end of the list, both carts are full to the brim, and Granny Ethel is simply beaming.
The checkout lines are deserted—they have their pick. Although only one station is manned by a clerk, and it greatly narrows their choice.
As Todd wheels the two shopping carts to the register, he recognizes the young employee from before, who once again shoots him the demon-horn hand symbol.
“Love your poncho, dude,” Sam (as his nametag reads) comments with a bit of a tired drawl, and there are dark shadows under his eyes as expected from an overworked youth on minimum wage, but he is otherwise energetic, quickly scanning each of the items set on the conveyor belt, and smiling at demon and old woman in turn. “Did the little lady here knit that for
The story continues to have comical parts as the family continues traveling to Florida until the grandmother remembers of a time when she was young and decides she wants to visit an old home. She tells the children about a house and even lies to them and says that there are "secret panels" (324). They become very excited and Bailey decides to let them go see it and on the way there is when the tone and story line changes.
Todd has taken a step closer to entering manhood, and the knife has taken a step of having less power in his eyes. When Aaron is telling Todd to kill him, Viola takes the knife and kills him, “And gravity takes his body and he slumps sideways. Away from the pulpit. And over the edge. And disappears under the wall of water. Taking the knife with him” (Ness, 463). As soon as the knife and Aaron hit the ground, all of Todd’s superiority and power is lost and he becomes a man. Todd has humbled himself and that is the real definition of a man, and Todd has to learn that.
Keating forces him to create a poem on the spot in front of the class, although he is well-aware of Todd’s resistance to speak in front of others, after he write a poem on his own as requested. Mr. Keating questions Todd and installs him with a sense of confidence in his own abilities, “Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. Isn't that right, Todd? Isn't that your worst fear? Well, I think you're wrong. I think you have something inside of you that is worth a great deal”. Mr. Keating teaches Todd to think freely for himself and that these thoughts and opinions he has are valued. In the end, Todd becomes self-reliant, confident in himself and his ideas and beliefs. He does not conform to society and distinguishes himself amongst the rest, maintaining his own voice, and he overcomes his previous shy and isolated self, becoming a leader, when introduced to these ideas of individualism and
“My, aren’t you popular these days,” observed Allie. “One invitation after another; you would think everyone would be depressed with this war going on, instead of planning balls and soirées.”
Marlorana cheerfully sang while swinging, she stopped. “Okay. Here I come, Granny.” She went running at full speed and stopped right next to where Missy was seated. “Here I am granny.”
Faye. This compulsion eventually leaves Todd with feelings of failure and breaks him down. Faye
You're unique after all. Right, right, the story. Once she runs through her thoughts and fixes her outfit, she clears her throat, putting a bright grin on her face, and announces, "Hello, everyone!
Next, the diegetic sound of the doorbell rings and Mr. Todd welcomes yet another soon to be victim to sit in his chair. Todd
Nothing will stop the demon from getting revenge on the female who enslaved him years ago.
I went through all the aisles speedy quick and walked over to the cash register. I paid and then walked out to the car.
Words are finger-painted in the dust on the back window above the bumper stickers declaring, "My child is an honor student" and "Vacation at Disneyland." Sticky, diapered youngsters spill from the van to scramble for a rusty cart which desperately needs a front-end alignment. Suburban Sally, in a loose sweatsuit and pink rollers, unravels a grocery list equal to any childÕs letter to Santa. She skillfully maneuvers the cart through the maze of shoppers, braking without warning, to comparison shop or to threaten her loud bunch of food guzzlers. With the strength of a two-ton truck, she steers her cart to the finish line. As the cashier rings up her purchases, it is time for her to make one last lap around the store for a forgotten item. Customers sigh as she pulls out coupons and rebates to offset the sticker price. She writes a check and calculates the difference before leaving. A good set of brakes and plenty of tabloids to read are necessary when shopping behind Suburban Sally.
Regan has no father figure around her, mother behaves her like a friend. A spoiled girl, without no authority at home, moreover experiencing an adolescence period, where she is available to change any time, must be the best candidate for a demon or evil, whatever. There is a belief that demons love lonely and desperate people and they get in their lifes while they are unhappy or not enough happy. Also there is another believe that this evil things happens mostly to the people without no faith or religion.
"You must really enjoy my company, not many people call askin' to see me again." Aviators covered his eyes, despite their indoor setting. Bleach blonde hair was littered with faded streaks of red, clearly done at home. Karkat simply shrugged, lifting a white ceramic cup to his parted lips, sighing blissfully at the steaming coffee warming him up. He held the cup close to him, the heated ceramic calming him down significantly.
The owner has hired her son, Carson, to work there as well. Carson often does little to no work while on the job, and his mother often turns a blind eye to his lack of responsibility. Jane notices that Carson takes a little cash and steals some of the product while at work. When Jane questions Carson about his actions he shrugs and implies that it doesn’t matter because his mom owns the store anyway.
“I can’t believe that’s true!” I exclaimed, my laughter echoing through the room. My grandpa and I had been chatting on the phone for the past half an hour. You would imagine a man his age would be boring and dull. However, he was quite the joker. At least with me, since I was, of course, his favorite granddaughter.