"This thing's gonna be dead by next week," Jessica remarked as she walked home. She was greeted in the dining room by her mom, a brunette in her forties.
"How was school?" the mom asked.
"Good. We learned about the parts of a plant cell, something that I'll forget within two months," she replied. "On the bright side, we're making a cell out of cake next week. Heart problems for everyone. America."
"Yum. Where'd you get that from?" her mom asked, referring to the flower.
"Oh, this guy on the subway was passing them out. I can tell you know, it won't last long. Where are all the vases?" Jessica asked.
"That cabinet over there," her mom said. "We've lived here for over a decade and you still don't know."
"And how often do we have flowers here? Oh, you've been burned!" Jessica said.
"You're a dork," replied her mother, smiling.
YOU ARE READING
Deathday Party
RandomThis was an English assignment from eighth grade. We were given a picture of a guy handing out flowers on a subway and a list of twenty-something words we had to include. Here's the aftermath of that.
