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Personal Piece Imaginative Writing

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Introduction

Personal Piece Imaginative Writing "...the capital of America is..., ummm, yes Nigel","Nigel, Nigel!", "yes miss", "you are not listening again, I said what is the capital of America". I am Nigel, I hated my geography teacher, her name was Miss Hectic, and I guess her personality fit her name like a glove. I hated geography too. She always picked on me in class and I hated it so much. But I guess, every time it was the same answer. Before I was able to answer the question, another pupil in the class had already beaten me to the punch. I looked back behind me, and there he was, laying back, all smug in his chair. He looked back at me and said "what you looking at punk" and added an unnecessary dirty look. I quickly turned back around and another pupil beside me tapped me on the shoulder and said "do not be afraid of him, his just joking around". I tried than to actually start to pay attention to the lesson then remembered it was geography, so I just looked around the room. It was quite a messed up room, with cheap bumpy plaster to fill the holes in the wall. The room was an absolute state, the plaster was a different colour from the original colour of the wall, you could spot the snot filled walls from miles away. ...read more.

Middle

'The Nerds' were not all that bad, except what they wanted to do for fun was to read a book and play chess. I decided something had to be done, so I taught them how to play basket ball, they all surprisingly caught on very quickly. I had made friends with the people I avoided in my old school, and I could not remember why. I was in the middle of winning our game of twenty one, when the bell of fate rang; it was time for next lesson. I was pushed aside by 8 other pupils in my class; they all sat in a circle around one chair. It looked like it took all their eight little minds to think of this plan, but I just went to the seat in the back. The lesson continued, English was better than geography because the teacher was a funny guy, he was Mr. James. He was a medium built man, quite short and always had a smile on his face. I am sure that if he was to tell me my parents had died, he would say it with a big smug grin on his face. I would never get into trouble in his class, or so I thought. The group of eight were silently chatting and had the occasional look behind them. ...read more.

Conclusion

I turned around and saw the guy I was suppose to fight with his fist in the wall. I would have cracked up laughing but I did not have much time. He had ordered his so-called 'Gang' to beat me up, surprisingly they came at me one by one I ducked and done ten fast punches to the ribs every time, but when it came to the last three they all attacked at once. I ducked and punched, "one down". I stepped back, and then leg swept the other one, "two down". I was now feeling high and full of adrenalin; I finished the last one with an upper cut, street fighter style, with my fist raised up in the air way after impact. The next day I still was segregated from everyone else and no one new wanted to be my friend. I still had 'The Nerds" they were ok. I guess some friends are better than no friends. But then again I did go to college with some of the bullies. IN COLLEGE "Hey pass the ball" I said, and I ran down the side of the court, but as I was running someone had thrown a ball at my head, I turned around, and I saw surprisingly the same guy who was suppose to beat me up in 4th grade. But wait. He looked taller. More built. Would this matter if we were to get into a fight? I sighed and said "here we go again" ...read more.

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