here's my crappy charles dikkens (i know dikkens is spelled wrong, it just comes out as [CENSORED]ens if i don't spell it the other way) story i had to make for english class. took me about seven hours cause i have learning differences, and the formatting's screwy because i basically ripped it right out of microsoft word.
A Chanukah Carol
by Nicholas Pranas-Pilla ?veikauskas
Mr. Spakenkov was a very dislikable fellow. He was one of those people that you look at and say, ?I?m glad he?s not my electrician.? He was the proprietor of a very successful sharpie factory, but paid his employees very little, if at all (he never
even gave them sharpies). Paying his employees miniscule salaries gave Mr. Spakenkov loads of sharpies (and money, but that?s not important) with which could write letters to himself with, count, stare at, make little sharpie houses with, et cetera et cetera.
Our story begins at Spakenkov?s sharpie factory, SPAKENSHARPIES.
1 * * *
A Rather Daft Beginning
?But sir, my family will have nothing to write with this Chanukah!?
?SO?! WHAT?S WRONG WITH THAT?!?
?Nothing sir! Nothing at all! Have a happy Chanukah!? And with that he rushed out the door, without his Chanukah bonus.
?Happy Chanukah my foot!? Spakenkov grumbled to himself, making his way back over to his desk, preparing to do the nightly sharpie stacking.
?That?s all my employees ever say. Always the same, ?Happy Chanukah this, Happy Chanukah that,? why, all that ever leads to is trouble!? As he said this, he added another sharpie to the fourth story of his highly detailed sharpie replica of the Spakenkov Mansion.
?Can?t they see I need these sharpies? And furthermore, they don?t deserve them!? Noticing he is out of sharpies, he takes a handful of them from the mound he is sitting on, and continues with his construction of the left wing.
Later on in the night, Spakenkov goes home and retires for the evening. Halfway through his slumber, he awakens to find two small beady eyes staring him straight in the face. A platypus, right in front of him, wearing a beaniecopter hat.
?What are you doing in my house?? Spakenkov looked at the specimen for a moment. ?And what are you? A beaver??
?Actually,? replied the platypus, ?I, am a platypus. Robert I. Platypus to be preci-?
?I DON?T CARE WHO YOU ARE, I JUST WANTED TO KNOW WHAT YOU ARE, THAT?S ALL I ASKED!? Spakenkov interjected, with much force.
?As I said, before I was rudely interrupted, I am Robert I. Platypus, your guide for the night.?
?May I ask why you are a platypus??
?Well, why not??
?Well, usually mysterious guides are ghosts of a dead family member or something, but a platypus is just a little on the daft side, don?t you think??
?I still don?t quite understand fully.?
?Never you mind then.?
?Alright. Let us begin our journey.? With a swish of his tail, The Platypus and Spakenkov were off into the night sky.
2 * * *
The Past
?This is our first destination,? said The Platypus to Spakenkov as they soared towards the window of a large skyscraper.
?There are two things I don?t understand here,? said the man to The Platypus. ?One, why is this building standing, it was demolished over thirty years ago??
The Platypus replied, ?I have taken you forty-five years into the past, when you were only ten years old.?
?Impossible! But then again, you are a flying talking platypus. Which brings up my second question. How is it that we are flying??
The Platypus answered, ?It?s quite simple really, but I don?t think someone as narrow-minded as you would understand. Onward.?
Pretty soon, the two strange travelers landed upon the windowsill. There they saw Spakenkov?s younger self and his father engaged in conversation, the little boy?s wide eyes reflecting innocence and cheer.
At this point, The Platypus became animated, ?I?ve brought us to the point in time in which your father gave you your first pen, quite a fine one at that.?
?Yes, I do remember well,? sighed Spakenkov. ?I loved my father and that pen dearly.?
?And do you remember what happened to that pen, perhaps??
?Indeed,? said Spakenkov in a dark tone, ?I remember as if it was only yesterday. My best friend stole it while I was out on my newspaper delivery route. I knew it was him. It could have been no other. Only he knew where I kept my beloved pen. He had no idea how very much it meant to me, and probably didn?t care, for that matter.?
?Quite so,? continued The Platypus. ?After he stole it, if I remember correctly, you became obsessed with the matter. You wanted revenge. After many attempts, you stole it back. But that wasn?t enough. You wanted more. Your heart became hard and you began to scheme. At first, you innocently asked people, ?May I borrow a pen?? and they gladly lent you one.
?After a while, you were given the reputation of someone who fails to return writing implements. Still, you continued expanding your collection until you began to tire of pens. They always ran out of ink at the worst time possible. So, using the little intelligence that you had, you created a cross between a pen and a marker, which you called the sharpie, a writing utensil used everywhere today.?
?So?? inquired Spakenkov. ?What does that have to do with anything??
?It has everything to do with anything!? said The Platypus. ?I brought you here tonight to show you how cruel you became!?
?Well, it didn?t work,? said Spakenkov with a touch of despair.
?Then we must proceed to our next destination,? sighed The Platypus.
3 * * *
The Present
?This is our next stop, in your present time,? said The Platypus. ?your most faithful employee?s residence. A modest place, don?t you think??
?It?s a dump!? exclaimed Spakenkov with disgust.
?Yes, it is a little bit on the shabby side, I agree. But you see, that isn?t his fault, is it? You are his employer and you pay the poor man very little, don?t you? And sometimes you even ?forget? to pay the weekly wages, yes? Now tell me, Spakenkov, what would he like to do? What does it appear he wants? Think, man, think.?
With that, Spakenkov took in the scene before him, thought it over, and came up with a simple ?I dunno.?
?Well now, it?s time to start putting in a little effort, don?t you think so? Watch.?
After The Platypus said this, it was evident that the employee was looking for a writing implement, as he was searching through all his desk drawers.
?I think I?ve got it! I believe he may be searching for something to write with! Yes, indeed. That?s what he?s doing!?
?Very good, Einstein. He would like to write a letter to his dear old grandmother, who is currently sick at a nursing home, with no one to be with for Chanukah. Don?t you think you would give him and the rest of your employee?s money, so they can afford better living conditions? They can?t even survive off of what you give them! A free sharpie every now and then wouldn?t hurt either, eh??
?NEVER!? exclaimed Spakenkov. ?I need those sharpies! And I guess the money is important too, but what would happen if I ran out of sharpies, I wouldn?t be able to complete my mansion repli-?
?Never you mind that!? interjected The Platypus. ?Here?s the bottom line. Your sharpies or their lives??
?Why, my sharpies of course!? said the man in a matter-of-fact voice.
?Fine, have it your way,? said The Platypus. And with that he smacked Spakenkov in the face with his tail, sending him back to his bed in an instant.
?Happy Chanukah my foot?? grumbled Spakenkov as he went back to sleep.
4 * * *
Options, Misfortune, and Potatoes
?HUNGRY?!? said a loud voice next to Spakenkov?s bed, awaking him instantly. A half-eaten potato was floating in front of him.
?I said, are you hungry?? asked The Platypus, graciously.
Spakenkov rubbed his eyes. He saw the creature hovering in midair, holding a potato in front of his face.
?Just love potatoes. No where were we? Ah, yes.? The Platypus polished off the rest of the potato and grabbed Spakenkov out of bed by his forearm rather forcefully.
?No you listen to me, Spakenkov. You haven?t paid your employees well, misfortune will be your only future. You can continue the day as usual, or I can change today into a day where you have been paying your employees better for months. Sure, your wallet may be a little lighter, and your mound of sharpies you sit on every day may be a bit smaller, but you will have saved yourself from a terrible future. Your decision.?
?What happens if I just want to stay the same as I?ve always been? What misfortune could possibly occur??
?Just trust me, you wouldn?t like it.?
?I?ll take that chance, Platypus. Go away and let me continue living my life! I?m tired of all this.?
?So be it.?
And with that the Platypus vanished.
?Well, said Spakenkov. Glad that?s over with.?
That morning, at Spakensharpies, while Spakenkov was starting the construction of the sharpie golf course in the front lawn of his little sharpie mansion, one of the workers came into the room with a look of dismay on his face.
?Mr. Spakenkov, would it be okay if I had the day off? I have just received news that my grandmother has passed away.?
?ABSOLUTELY NOT! We have a strict policy of one sick day per year, and besides, you?re behind on sharpie production! Now get back to work! I?m busy.?
?That?s just what I thought you?d say,? said the employee sadly as he headed towards the door.
?Putrid employees,? said Spakenkov to himself as he added a flag to hole number three.
5 * * *
Conclusions
Back at his workstation, the employee received a phone call saying that he had inherited a vast fortune from his grandmother. With this news, the employee quit his job and gave the other employees enough money to leave the Spakensharpie factory for good. It was too good to be true! He could even sue Mr. Spakenkov for working conditions that broke every law in the book. And so, he did.
Little by little, Spakenkov became poorer and poorer until he owned no more than his bed and one sharpie. Oh, how he wished he had listened to that odd creature!
And yet, even though Spakenkov had been evil beyond belief, the employee took pity on an old disheveled hobo he saw begging on the street corner one cold winter day.
?Spakenkov, is it you??
?Afraid so. And you are??
?I used to work in your factory, remember??
?As if it was only yesterday,? sighed Spakenkov.
?Well then, how about a Chanukah bonus?? The employee placed a few hundred dollar bills in Spakenkov?s pocket and walked off humming a happy little Chanukah melody as Spakenkov looked after him in wonder.
AWWWWWWWW! ISN'T THAT CUTE??!!?/1!/
A Chanukah Carol
by Nicholas Pranas-Pilla ?veikauskas
Mr. Spakenkov was a very dislikable fellow. He was one of those people that you look at and say, ?I?m glad he?s not my electrician.? He was the proprietor of a very successful sharpie factory, but paid his employees very little, if at all (he never
even gave them sharpies). Paying his employees miniscule salaries gave Mr. Spakenkov loads of sharpies (and money, but that?s not important) with which could write letters to himself with, count, stare at, make little sharpie houses with, et cetera et cetera.
Our story begins at Spakenkov?s sharpie factory, SPAKENSHARPIES.
1 * * *
A Rather Daft Beginning
?But sir, my family will have nothing to write with this Chanukah!?
?SO?! WHAT?S WRONG WITH THAT?!?
?Nothing sir! Nothing at all! Have a happy Chanukah!? And with that he rushed out the door, without his Chanukah bonus.
?Happy Chanukah my foot!? Spakenkov grumbled to himself, making his way back over to his desk, preparing to do the nightly sharpie stacking.
?That?s all my employees ever say. Always the same, ?Happy Chanukah this, Happy Chanukah that,? why, all that ever leads to is trouble!? As he said this, he added another sharpie to the fourth story of his highly detailed sharpie replica of the Spakenkov Mansion.
?Can?t they see I need these sharpies? And furthermore, they don?t deserve them!? Noticing he is out of sharpies, he takes a handful of them from the mound he is sitting on, and continues with his construction of the left wing.
Later on in the night, Spakenkov goes home and retires for the evening. Halfway through his slumber, he awakens to find two small beady eyes staring him straight in the face. A platypus, right in front of him, wearing a beaniecopter hat.
?What are you doing in my house?? Spakenkov looked at the specimen for a moment. ?And what are you? A beaver??
?Actually,? replied the platypus, ?I, am a platypus. Robert I. Platypus to be preci-?
?I DON?T CARE WHO YOU ARE, I JUST WANTED TO KNOW WHAT YOU ARE, THAT?S ALL I ASKED!? Spakenkov interjected, with much force.
?As I said, before I was rudely interrupted, I am Robert I. Platypus, your guide for the night.?
?May I ask why you are a platypus??
?Well, why not??
?Well, usually mysterious guides are ghosts of a dead family member or something, but a platypus is just a little on the daft side, don?t you think??
?I still don?t quite understand fully.?
?Never you mind then.?
?Alright. Let us begin our journey.? With a swish of his tail, The Platypus and Spakenkov were off into the night sky.
2 * * *
The Past
?This is our first destination,? said The Platypus to Spakenkov as they soared towards the window of a large skyscraper.
?There are two things I don?t understand here,? said the man to The Platypus. ?One, why is this building standing, it was demolished over thirty years ago??
The Platypus replied, ?I have taken you forty-five years into the past, when you were only ten years old.?
?Impossible! But then again, you are a flying talking platypus. Which brings up my second question. How is it that we are flying??
The Platypus answered, ?It?s quite simple really, but I don?t think someone as narrow-minded as you would understand. Onward.?
Pretty soon, the two strange travelers landed upon the windowsill. There they saw Spakenkov?s younger self and his father engaged in conversation, the little boy?s wide eyes reflecting innocence and cheer.
At this point, The Platypus became animated, ?I?ve brought us to the point in time in which your father gave you your first pen, quite a fine one at that.?
?Yes, I do remember well,? sighed Spakenkov. ?I loved my father and that pen dearly.?
?And do you remember what happened to that pen, perhaps??
?Indeed,? said Spakenkov in a dark tone, ?I remember as if it was only yesterday. My best friend stole it while I was out on my newspaper delivery route. I knew it was him. It could have been no other. Only he knew where I kept my beloved pen. He had no idea how very much it meant to me, and probably didn?t care, for that matter.?
?Quite so,? continued The Platypus. ?After he stole it, if I remember correctly, you became obsessed with the matter. You wanted revenge. After many attempts, you stole it back. But that wasn?t enough. You wanted more. Your heart became hard and you began to scheme. At first, you innocently asked people, ?May I borrow a pen?? and they gladly lent you one.
?After a while, you were given the reputation of someone who fails to return writing implements. Still, you continued expanding your collection until you began to tire of pens. They always ran out of ink at the worst time possible. So, using the little intelligence that you had, you created a cross between a pen and a marker, which you called the sharpie, a writing utensil used everywhere today.?
?So?? inquired Spakenkov. ?What does that have to do with anything??
?It has everything to do with anything!? said The Platypus. ?I brought you here tonight to show you how cruel you became!?
?Well, it didn?t work,? said Spakenkov with a touch of despair.
?Then we must proceed to our next destination,? sighed The Platypus.
3 * * *
The Present
?This is our next stop, in your present time,? said The Platypus. ?your most faithful employee?s residence. A modest place, don?t you think??
?It?s a dump!? exclaimed Spakenkov with disgust.
?Yes, it is a little bit on the shabby side, I agree. But you see, that isn?t his fault, is it? You are his employer and you pay the poor man very little, don?t you? And sometimes you even ?forget? to pay the weekly wages, yes? Now tell me, Spakenkov, what would he like to do? What does it appear he wants? Think, man, think.?
With that, Spakenkov took in the scene before him, thought it over, and came up with a simple ?I dunno.?
?Well now, it?s time to start putting in a little effort, don?t you think so? Watch.?
After The Platypus said this, it was evident that the employee was looking for a writing implement, as he was searching through all his desk drawers.
?I think I?ve got it! I believe he may be searching for something to write with! Yes, indeed. That?s what he?s doing!?
?Very good, Einstein. He would like to write a letter to his dear old grandmother, who is currently sick at a nursing home, with no one to be with for Chanukah. Don?t you think you would give him and the rest of your employee?s money, so they can afford better living conditions? They can?t even survive off of what you give them! A free sharpie every now and then wouldn?t hurt either, eh??
?NEVER!? exclaimed Spakenkov. ?I need those sharpies! And I guess the money is important too, but what would happen if I ran out of sharpies, I wouldn?t be able to complete my mansion repli-?
?Never you mind that!? interjected The Platypus. ?Here?s the bottom line. Your sharpies or their lives??
?Why, my sharpies of course!? said the man in a matter-of-fact voice.
?Fine, have it your way,? said The Platypus. And with that he smacked Spakenkov in the face with his tail, sending him back to his bed in an instant.
?Happy Chanukah my foot?? grumbled Spakenkov as he went back to sleep.
4 * * *
Options, Misfortune, and Potatoes
?HUNGRY?!? said a loud voice next to Spakenkov?s bed, awaking him instantly. A half-eaten potato was floating in front of him.
?I said, are you hungry?? asked The Platypus, graciously.
Spakenkov rubbed his eyes. He saw the creature hovering in midair, holding a potato in front of his face.
?Just love potatoes. No where were we? Ah, yes.? The Platypus polished off the rest of the potato and grabbed Spakenkov out of bed by his forearm rather forcefully.
?No you listen to me, Spakenkov. You haven?t paid your employees well, misfortune will be your only future. You can continue the day as usual, or I can change today into a day where you have been paying your employees better for months. Sure, your wallet may be a little lighter, and your mound of sharpies you sit on every day may be a bit smaller, but you will have saved yourself from a terrible future. Your decision.?
?What happens if I just want to stay the same as I?ve always been? What misfortune could possibly occur??
?Just trust me, you wouldn?t like it.?
?I?ll take that chance, Platypus. Go away and let me continue living my life! I?m tired of all this.?
?So be it.?
And with that the Platypus vanished.
?Well, said Spakenkov. Glad that?s over with.?
That morning, at Spakensharpies, while Spakenkov was starting the construction of the sharpie golf course in the front lawn of his little sharpie mansion, one of the workers came into the room with a look of dismay on his face.
?Mr. Spakenkov, would it be okay if I had the day off? I have just received news that my grandmother has passed away.?
?ABSOLUTELY NOT! We have a strict policy of one sick day per year, and besides, you?re behind on sharpie production! Now get back to work! I?m busy.?
?That?s just what I thought you?d say,? said the employee sadly as he headed towards the door.
?Putrid employees,? said Spakenkov to himself as he added a flag to hole number three.
5 * * *
Conclusions
Back at his workstation, the employee received a phone call saying that he had inherited a vast fortune from his grandmother. With this news, the employee quit his job and gave the other employees enough money to leave the Spakensharpie factory for good. It was too good to be true! He could even sue Mr. Spakenkov for working conditions that broke every law in the book. And so, he did.
Little by little, Spakenkov became poorer and poorer until he owned no more than his bed and one sharpie. Oh, how he wished he had listened to that odd creature!
And yet, even though Spakenkov had been evil beyond belief, the employee took pity on an old disheveled hobo he saw begging on the street corner one cold winter day.
?Spakenkov, is it you??
?Afraid so. And you are??
?I used to work in your factory, remember??
?As if it was only yesterday,? sighed Spakenkov.
?Well then, how about a Chanukah bonus?? The employee placed a few hundred dollar bills in Spakenkov?s pocket and walked off humming a happy little Chanukah melody as Spakenkov looked after him in wonder.
AWWWWWWWW! ISN'T THAT CUTE??!!?/1!/