LiL Boy

Once upon a time not to long ago, when laws were stern and justice stood, majority of people in society lived a good extravagant life. This one little boy was an exception that didn't fit that image, he did numerous things that would play games with his conscience. He was misled, by another lil' boy who preached a few words, that his weak conscience enjoyed hearing: "Me & You, we gonna make sum cash, robbin' old folks and making the dash", they went about their business, and inherited some wealth with ease.

After a year of creating trouble and causing mischief in the land, the little boy could not stop; it was like he had been possessed by a disease. He robbed and robbed one after the other; he got to a point where his conscience probably wouldn't deny him of robbing his own sister or brother. Finally the little boy met his match; he finally met up with consequence. The little boy tried to rob a man one night who was an undercover, the cop grabbed his arm, and said "Keep still, boy, you are under arrest." The cop punched him in his belly and gave him a slap, but little did he know the lil' boy was strapped, the kid pulled out a gun, and asked the undercover a simple but freighting question "Why'd ya hit me?” and set straight for the cop's kidney. He got loose, started too dashed and ran around the block.

The little boy thought he was free, but shots were fired at his head so he decided he'd head for the subway stations. He was running at top speed till he was out of breath, then he made his move to an abandoned building to get some rest. He ran up the stairs, to the top floor, kicked down the door and realized it was filled with many dope heads. He made a quick uturn outside, but there were cops all over, he dipped into a car, a stolen Nova, Raced up the block doing 83, but crashed into a tree.


The lil boy hopped out of the car, gripped his fire arm and rat-a-tat-tatted at the cops who scattered all over the neighborhood. The little boy quickly ran out of bullets, grabbed a pregnant lady and pulled out the automatic. He pointed at her head, said the gun was full o' lead, and told the cops (Back off or honey here's dead). Deep inside his heart he knew he was wrong, so he let the lady go and started to run for the freedom he was soon going to loose, the sirens sounded. It didn't take long for the cops to surround the little boy, with the drop of his gun, his glory faded away, and his story came to a closure. He was only seventeen, in a madman's body; the cops shot the kid ending the dream of my friend.

Snapshot

Hate it or love it, Toronto is home to some of the most; beautiful, sexiest, and freakiest women on earth, but I’m sorry to say that downtown Toronto is a brutal rat trap for many artificial females. I’m not pointing out their artificial personalities, but rather their bodies. Botox, liposuction, breast lift and buttock augmentation are some of the few hundreds of surgeries that Torontonians have infused themselves with. Even though it has brought jolts to life in terms of happiness, the idea of a doctor medically morphing a human body somewhat sickens me. To all those who have walked through the street of downtown and have bared witness to many males and females that have reconstructed themselves to forge a band new identity, you will agree that they look much more lush an invigorating. I’m not going to lie I like a girl with a “phat ass”, and sexy lips but plastic surgery is only a form of sketchiness as you are not the real you, you just resemble a sketch of what you wanted to look like, in my eyes you’ve become superficial your only as good as your cover. As females or males grow it is common for them to feel uncomfortable about their own skin, they possess a delicate blend of invigoration and trauma, and in order to feel revitalized they reanimate themselves reducing their chances of feeling disturbed about themselves. Throughout the ages, civilians have felt violated by many people who attack them with negative slurs; the victims of these slurs are the ones who respond to an echo of their face. The accuser, being a bully in middle-school or possibly high school forces the victim to think less of their appearance; leaving the victim thinking that they feel they need to market their face and bodies in a better way. These communities of people feel instead of being an ugly figure to society, they should transform themselves and result to plasticity. The bottom line is that even being unique has been commodified. Our newly born society embeds an anorexic image in the minds of young females; if they don't fit that image when they grow up they feel the need for a change. Many women, and surprisingly males that receive plastic surgery have intentions of being surgically effeminized, to portray a more feminine character. I feel the massive growth of plastic surgery needs to come to a halt, because many people possess natural beauty and the opportunity to deconstruct your face should only be given to people with real facial and body problems.

Humor Paragraph

North America is a geographical area of residency where there is hope alongside dope. The hope of North America, we like to think, lies in the hands of America’s new found president Barrack Obama, and I’m sorry to say the dope lies in the pockets of our Prime Minister Stephen Harper. Even though the US and Canada are very close, our political leaders are very far apart. Comparing Obama with Harper it's just not fair with each of them at the end of a stick. One has promise renewing America as a whole while the other wishes he was American. I’m taking about you Mr. Harper, who all ways looks hot under the collar as if he was the devil himself while Obama looks cool in button down shorts as if he was a baller. O ya I forgot Obama was a baller, he shoots hoops for fun, while I think Harper just gags on the nut sacks of Barrack Obama trying to be his best friend, “Is he not a straight shooter.”. In terms of speeches Obama is America’s Elvis while in Canada Harper is America’s Kfed. Smooth, soft and sexy is what Obama brings to the table making his audiences feel as if they were making love. Dull, dreadful, and dry makes you think bad of Mr. Harper’s. This is the concrete difference between the two, one’s joke, while the other is the reality. In the end Obama is a clean coal dude, while Harper is one crude dude.