Brad.

-He replaces the house with a human character
- He does so by giving house human qualities
- Yet he doesn't let us forget the actual humans existed, and leaves traces of what is left of them in the house; in a way replacing them and making them do all the things that humans should do.
-

I dnt know how well this will work out

G-d created nature, and nature created us. G-d's first creation through nature was Adam. His first creation; The man. The man was white. G-d let nature take it's course, but it couldn't on its own; so G-d made woman out of man. The woman was loyal and obidient, as G-d wanted her to be. Man was given authority, man was given power; while woman was given the gift of baring a part of man's nature.

It's all in the Holy Book. My mama taught me the sanctimonous words; the worlds so tied with one another that humanity can barely comprhend the magnitude and meaning of what G-d truely meant, but I was one of the few that carried the torch of Adam; G-d's gift to Earth. Mark his words, remember each one; my mama told me. Mama was a good wife. Mama followed papa around the old barn, cooked him every meal with every bit of her bones; even asked for a penance when she knew she had done wrong. Papa used to say he's the luckiest one of 'em all.

Papa raised me by the words of heaven, papa taught me wrong from right. Be a good boy now, Oom, and heaven just might let ya in, he used to say while smoking his heavy cigar. I remember the scent; the emanating heavy scent of gas.  Always welcomed me home. My papa was as smart and proud as Solomon himself, but he smacked me asided whenever I dared mention it; but I felt his heart's content.

I was a happy lad till the day the sinners came. The sinners wore the devil's cloak; only theirs was in human form. My parents were shocked, horrified. Those creatures. They went against everything that was taught to me; worse yet, it went against the Lord's word.

The blasphemy slowly continued, slowly diffused till each corner was rotten mold with the Devil's sin. Them blacks were everywhere; them blacks treated themselves as equal. As something natural. As a child my innocent and naive child mind didn't understand the meaning of sin; of what inferno was like. I only grew out of the clouds of the misty dream-world when I realised this abnormalities were there for good. We humans were soliders of God, created out of His word; them hotnots came along with Hell as a backbone; spuring the devil's colors as their armor.

My vocation  became a revelation when my papa was murdered with the weapon of evil. Accident, they said. Accident. Blood ain't no accident when it comes to those creatures. They knew G-d would win, they knew His final word would overrule whatever hallowed their existence; they fought while they could. My final sigh tof papa was terrifying; horrendous...but it had to be done. My papa was a sacrifice God took to open our eyes and souls and realize the darkness that lays in between. My mama screamed and screamed, until her there was nothing left to scream for. Staring at her, I knew what had to be done.

Taking my knife out of jacket, I prayed for my papa. Avenged you will be, papa. Mama, don't cry, here..read the bible for me while I offer God my purpose in life; while I offer God his enemy's son.

Huh.

The oddest of people, the ones you never expect, offer you something even the closest ones can't. A person I have't even talked to in ages suddenly made me see something. Maybe the past remains the past, and what happend maynever happen again, but..there's a trace, theres that hope that one person can bring, even if..they're not the same person they used to be. Words of wisdom were told by an drunken mishap of a teenager's life that brought me to appreciate who and what I am. I can't believe snails literally showed me the path.
Rabbling on, I confess II dont know who I am, what I will be, but I know that doesn't matter. I dont what matters either, but maybe happiness will lead me somewhere.
Journalism, awesomely-formed structured..here I come!

kissing ass ain't easy

Dear Mr Feet,
Since I sincerely do not know how to spell your name, I will call you mr feet from now on.
I wanted to apply for prefect, but  realized how retarded you are and  said 'I would be a minion of a little retarded minion if I become a prefect', so im writing this chain mail. The only reason im applying its because it looks good, and I actually do hope to make a difference. Not. Have you SEEN the people at our school? The layer of make-up is the layer of my leg-hair at winter. God, mr feet, I think you should leave while you can. How much do they pay you for this anyway?
Much dislike,
You're soon-to-be favorite.