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Friday, May 2, 2014

NO MORE by Sharlene, age 10

















The fragrant smell of french fries
hovers in the air.
I dash through chairs
and claw the the greasy sticks
into my mouth.
Crumbs of garlic tickle my tongue.
It’s my turn.
I pick up a bowling ball the size of my head,
stab my fingers through its skull
I lift my arm, swing,
and let go.
The ball echos down the lane.
Strike!
Pins clatter.
The reseter sweeps them down its throat.
I come back to the table.
Specks of garlic stare at me
from the greasy basket
No
more
fries.

Art by Jessica

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