Christmas aboard the nemesis!

Christmas day!

. . .  December 25th . . .

. . . 6:38 AM. . .

My optics opened to see various new presents along the ones  created by me and the vehicons. I smiled. 

It is CHRISTMASSSS!

"CHRISSTMAASSS!!!" I shouted.

I hopped up onto my legs and nearly fell back over waving my arms to regain my balance. Boy,wait--. . . . why am  I taller? It occurred to me that I was not a human but in fact a cybertronian. It occurred to me that I am never, if ever, going back into my universe. I saw a cybertronian letter on the Christmas tree which was actually a datapad. I grabbed it.

I recognized the writing as Soundwave.

Soundwave had distinctive writing that is so ninja-like.

I swear Soundwave is the Prowl of this universe because of his 'ninja skills'.

Wait, am I having a blonde moment because it has definetly occurred to me--yep, blonde moment.

And I ain't even blonde.

"Lockdown is dead. The  End." I read.

I frowned.

"Terrible story teller," I said. "There needs to be a beginning, a middle, and then the end. Like a sandwich."

It then occurred to me that is what the teachers meant when sandwiching a essay on paper. They were, in fact, being literal. Since my hand writing was so messy I tried to summerize my essays or just write the entire essay up on computer. I  take things literal if you are still being late on that. So when you are going to ask me to think out of the box on a essay and I write  a story instead of that, you have a huge problem on your hands. Starscream learned that the hard way when he told me to think out of the box when writing a essay on the fandom in my world.

So naturally I wrote a story about it.

Starscream  crushed the datapad glaring at me.

I gulped down the tremendous upset emotions  I felt toward him,  I kept back the negative, and I looked on the positive that I did something very wrong. Apparently the question, "Did your optic get stolen and replaced by a vehicon?"came out of my mouth instead of "What did I do wrong?" trembling in those dearly hated emotions. I am only human. I make mistakes. I cry,in private,because I don't want the Decepticons to see that I am weak. If I can brighten a vehicon's day then I can go on being annoying little old me. The frown that appeared on Starscream's face was unpleasent followed by the attempt to shoot me.

Starscream shot his optic out instead.

And with that scenario done, I went into  very private corner of the Nemesis and cried. The walls are so sturdy you can't hear voices. It must have been the engines, don't know, but it prevented me from being heard. I cried and cried.  It took me two hole slagging days to get it done! I DID EXACTLY WHAT HE SAID. IT'S NOT FAIR. NOT FAIR, I SAY! Let's say the Decepticons didn't hear from me for hours on end. Twenty-four hours to be exact. In fact they might have forgotten about me if I hadn't popped up all relaxed and calm but mostly devious during their breakfast.

Starscream got a new optic in place.

And he gave me the same request.

Let's say I rewrote the story five times  (And didn't emotional the other five times) until I threw it down the sixth time and demanded for him to tell me  IN WHAT FORMAT HE WANTED IT IN!

Script.

Third person.

1st person.