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Not so long ago, when I was a young boy I made a mistake,

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´╗┐Cheat Not so long ago, when I was a young boy I made a mistake, just a small mistake mind you. However before I tell you this story we must get one thing straight; I?m not a cheat. I wasn?t born a cheat. I wasn?t raised a cheat and I certainly didn?t mean to cheat! It was a windy morning in May; my wild blonde hair flopped from side to side like the tongue of a panting dog. Though I was 16 years of age I looked no older than ten. Youthful, innocent, and confident in myself, I handled the stickiest situations with aplomb. ?Oh aren?t you an angel- Gabriel?, my mum?s friends would crone whenever they visited. I?d been named after the angel Gabriel due to my angelic looks and what you could call ?boyish charm?. ...read more.


Most of the other boys would tire of picking strawberries and end up deceitfully packing the basket full of leaves, scattering strawberries on top. In all the years I had picked strawberries I was the only one who had never dared to swindle Mr. Abbots. Mr. Abbotts was a round jolly sort of man; he stood at about 6foot high. Alistair Abbotts was as bald as an egg (though I?m sure if he had hair it would be tufty and grey, since this is what grew out of his ear canal) and as rambunctious as a week old pup. I couldn?t bring myself to deceive him until today? Myself and all the other boys had been picking strawberries for what felt like a century. Finally there patience waned; they decided they?d had enough for one day! The weather had taken a turn for the worse. ...read more.


The other boys stared in bewilderment as the gate to the field clattered behind me. Now in my day, we were paid per kilo for the strawberries. We would bring them to the greengrocer who would weigh them up and pay us accordingly. ? Oh, Hello Gabriel back early are we? ? Mr. Abbotts grinned. ??Yes?? I croaked whilst trying to untangle the knots in my stomach. As usual Mr. Abbotts took my wicker basket placing them on the weighing scales, by this point sweat was pouring of my forehead (remember I had never cheated before). ?Ooh that?s a bad strawberry,? Mr. Abbotts said spotting a tiny imperfection in one of the berries. ? I better check, so I won?t be paying all the other boys for a bad set of crops? he chortled. His hand slowly reached into the basket, digging deeper and deeper into the layers of deception. Then the sound of an angry devastated voice ? ?CHEAT!? ? ...read more.

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