Bed

II: Third Draft Today you wake up and it’s the perfect day. You open your eyes and the sun is up, your house is clean and there is a beautiful man with a steaming cup of coffee waiting for you in the kitchen. Your Doberman, Vigdis, is laying in the bed, snuggling up with you. It’s 8am and your favorite day of the week- Saturday. Since this is your perfect day, your hubby, we can call him Mark for now, isn’t working and you spend the whole day together. You eat a wonderful breakfast of French Toast

Philip Larkin’s poem “Talking in Bed” tells the truth about life and how relationships can slowly descend overtime. It explores the idea that no matter how close we are to someone, we can still experience intense depths of loneliness. The language emphasizes the feelings of what an empty marriage may feel like. The poem also gives the impression it is from the male’s perspective. It is written in four stanzas, each with three lines of ten syllables apiece. This makes it a short lyrical ballad. Through

Landlady Who knew that a business trip (that should have only lasted for a few days) could have such a disastrous ending. It started out normally as a young man by the name of Billy Weaver entered the city of Bath, but as he poked his nose around a bit too much, he was never heard from again. Roald Dahl's twisted story “The LandLady” is not your average story. We have to infer the ending of the story but Dahl does leave small hints to tell us what were the “Landlady's” intentions. Even though

bag on the ground and slump into bed. I stepped into my room and flipped on the lights; to my astonishment there was Cynthia & a boy- in MY bed. “Cynthia!!” I snapped. She slowly opened her groggy eyes, as she gained awareness of the situation. “What are you doing? Why are you in my bed?” Her reply forced me to hold back the incredible hulk that’s lies within me. “Well… funny story” she said in a giggly way. “You see... my boyfriend was over, and we broke my bed, so we had to use yours, but I laid

When I was asked to be Shane's godmother it was around my mom's birthday. In November my mom made reservation for a hotel in Ohio. Fast forward to January. After school on Friday my mom, sister, Nana, and I started heading to Ohio. On the way to the hotel we stopped at the TA so we could get something to eat and use the rest. When I walk past Subway and Pizza Hut the smell was so amazing, the smell of both places where so good, I didn’t know which one to pick. I ended up getting Pizza Hut because

the rug. He turned the key and walked in. He walked into the wood floor and green wall apartment. His mom was sitting reading on her bed. “Hey, how was your day?”

The theme of “The Uncomfortable Bed” is paranoia that makes fools out of people. In the short text, the narrator experiences fear and anxiety when not knowing what could happen due to his friends being practical jokesters. He experiences paranoia and as a result acts out what causes him to look like a fool. “I was going perhaps to receive a cold shower-bath from overhead, or perhaps, the moment I stretched myself out, to find myself sinking under the floor of my mattress.” This quote tells us as

sit in: a little armchair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized armchair for the Average Bear; and a abundant armchair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had anniversary a bed to beddy-bye in: a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized bed for the Average Bear; and a abundant bed for

It 's Friday morning, Lindsay and I are sitting on the barstools of the airport caribou. Lindsay is arguing to me about who JoJo is going to pick for the bachelor. I honestly just think it 's a dumb show. A few minutes later the airports announcements let us know we can board our plane, Lindsay is still pretty heated so I switch spots and have Logan sit by Lindsay and I sit by Gianni. Gianni is my boyfriend, we 've been dating for almost a year now so I 'm pretty excited for this trip. On the flight

been and there never will. Just go to bed. And I will not leave the light on in the hall. You are fourteen, grow up.” My parents never seem to understand my fear of the dark, and of my closet. They tell me over and over that there is nothing in that closet. They think I am too old to be afraid of something like that. When I tell them that things get changed in my room at night they never seem to believe me either. I have taken pictures of my stuff before I go to bed, and then taken pictures of it in