Writer's Diary

Day One: My Dog Is A Politician

AN- Hello, people who decided to venture past my description. You are brave, and posses hearts of courage to dare to glimpse the life of one in the throes of madness! Anyways, this will be a bit like blogging, but (hopefully) much more colorful and descriptive. Since I've never done this before, it's probably going to be a bit rocky at first, but I'll eventually get the hang of it! I'm going to post these the day after I write them, and if that's confusing, here's a better explanation: I will write Day One on Day One, but post it on Day Two, and I will write Day Two on Day Two, but post it on Day Three, and so on and so forth. There will not he any cursing, I substitute curse words for their nicer forms for our pure readers. But I am not in any way someone who doesn't curse. I'm not that good of a person, but for those of you who still are good people, you don't need to worry. Another note about the names: my name in this story shall be Aspen because that is a beautiful name. I will ask others involved in my life what they want their names to be, except pets, of which I have a few. For example, you will read my dog's name as Bella, and it actually is Bella, but you will read my little brother's name as Cameron when his name is really something else. Thank you so much for reading this, feedback is like getting cake delivered to me at school, votes are like getting a hug from my crush. Let us begin!

I shut the back door behind me sharply, not quite slamming it so as to stay out of the dark wastelands known commonly by the name "In Trouble With Parents," but hard enough to let my distaste for the chore I was about to commence be known. I trudged through the damp leaves to the back of my yard, heading to get a rake so I can comb the grass for the ugly, brown, wet leaves. I grabbed my favorite rake and started my tedious work.

I had finally gotten a groove on, and could subsequently start thinking about important things, like my fantasy city building contest with Lucas, a small, blonde boy who was great with building anything, be it legos, minecraft, or marshmallow bridges, that boy was destined to be an architect. But I am good too, and I know I'm going to win, no matter what. While my rake violently ripped through the dead grass and leaves, the movement robotic and repetitive, my Mom and Dad burst out of the house. Dad immediately called out to my brother: "Cameron! You are doing great! WOW! Give it here, bud!" at this final, overexcited statement, my father raised his hand up to receive a high- hive from my brother. Cameron laughed, and slapped my father's hand, responding well to my dad's enthusiasm. My mom laughed as well, watching me roll my eyes and chuckle in a good natured way in my own corner of the sea of leaves.

My parents traipsed over to me, smiling all the way. Upon reaching me, my mom started to speak in a low voice, "You're doing great, too, Aspen, we just need to encourage him more because he's younger."

"Dear mother, oh father of mine, I shalt surely die upon this spot, for I have not received an ample amount of verbal praise! Oh, woe is I!" at the completion of my dramatic declaration, I allowed my knees to collapse under me and fell backwards onto the pile of leaves behind me. Instead of landing on a soft bed of crunchy, soft leaves, I landed on a stick poking out of my pile.

"Ow! I landed on a stick!" I whined.

My dad chortled, "Well, don't fall down, you goofball!"

"Hey! It's not my fault you leave me to wallow in my insanity! That only leads to bad things, you know!" I snapped back. But I was unable to keep a smile from creeping onto my face.

"Anyways," my mom cut in before my dad could retrieve a retort from his ample supply. "We did come out here for a reason." she continued, walking towards the large deck my dad had built over the summer. I dropped my rake and hurried to catch up to her and my dad.

She stepped onto the wood surface and turned to look out at the yard as my dad rattled off what I needed to do that day. She cut into my dad's long list of chores, yelling at our dog: "Bella! Get your head out of your butt!" I turned to see my dog cleaning herself. In a flash, I was doubled over, wheezing because I was laughing so hard.

"Her head up her butt! Oh my gosh, her head up her butt!" I thought. After shooting my dad a glare for looking at me funny, I said aloud, "Her head is up her..." here I paused, hoping my parents would catch what I was trying to say. They don't like me cursing, so I was always careful around them.

My dad started to laugh as well, and responded with, "But Bella's not a politician!" We both started to laugh even harder, I couldn't even breathe, and my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. My mom shook her head and sighed. She turned around and disappeared into the house. My dad soon followed her, still guffawing. I walked slowly back to my rake, grabbed the wooden handle of the tool, and set back to work, sporadically letting out an insane giggle. "Bella's a politician!" I yelled over and over in my mind, but then dropped my rake as I realized the voice in my head could not change volume. I ran towards the house, already composing my speech about this startling realization.