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Write a story that takes place from the point of view of a 56-year-old hypochondriac nurse. The story shall begin, "I hung up on him twice ..." |
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| Paul: | I hung up on him twice because he didn't make any sense each time. Suddenly a man whose face was filled with red boils burst through the door, gurgling and yelling at me. I screamed out "Doctor!" but Frank was busy with another patient and couldn't hear me. The man got closer and closer, gurgling at me and feeling his face. I screamed again and grabbed the fire extinguisher, ready to do what was necessary to keep myself healthy. Suddenly the door burst open and the doctor came to my rescue. |
| Nate: | I hung up on him twice, but the twerp still calls. I yelled that I didn't want to ever speak to him, but he still called. Finally I took the phone when it rang and shouted, "I don't care about whatever you want!" It was the doctor calling for help with a mortally ill patient. I said that I had the flu. Everyone seems to think that every sickness I have is fake although I never fake sickness most of the time. |
| Iris: | I hung up on him twice. Then I called back and asked if he was sure I was not dying of appendicitis. After being told for the eighth time that my abdominal pain was most likely gas, I hung up again. I got up from my desk and made it a few paces before my nose started to itch. I ran to my boss and asked him if he thought I might be allergic to monkeys (the building had an infestation). He said not to worry and walked away. I frowned I got that answer every time. It was getting old. |
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The
following is a poem written by Bridger.
"That will not
Change"
I thought the hard times were
well over now.
Brighter days would come and
stay.
I guess I'm just not that lucky
somehow,
cause you are standing in my way.
No matter how well I do,
I know I'll never be good enough
for you.
You'd love to watch me breakdown.
You'd love to watch me go insane.
I am a fool and it remains the
same.
My name is golden, but you call
me pale.
Your heart will never let me in.
I know you curse, but smile
inside when I fail.
Your jealousy is kept within.
No matter how good I play,
you only focus on the blunders I
say.
Yeah, I remain the same.
You hate me 'cause I'm strange,
but it remains the same
and that will not change.
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The following is
the opening stanza of an epic poem written by
Andrea.
The Master's Call
A man of old left his home in Idaho,
fourteen year was he.
He went to the streets of New York,
forgotten to be.
No job did he find 'til he found the
gang;