A Little Bit Longer

The song “Ross Capicchioni” by Joyner Lucas can be a prime example of a literary piece because of its plot, multi perspectives, and tone throughout the song. Manipulating words so that it could fit into different rhyming schemes to set a specific tone has added a dramatic and poetic effect on literary writings. A good plot is one of, if not the most critical part of a literary piece because it keeps a reader, viewer or listener interested in the piece. Lastly, the multi perspectives of the piece

whole "appearance" thing yet at their age, so they generally do not understand why you have to wash their hair. Sometimes they do not like the action of water cascading over their heads or perhaps the shampoo gets in their eyes. They may even be a little hesitant about the water itself or the strange position in which you have them. What you will need to do is try different methods to find out what works for you and your toddler. You can make use of a visor type of arrangement that the toddler wears

Holden told me that two things he liked were Allie and sitting down and talking to me. When Holden told me this I got angry because Allie was dead. We argued about whether or not it counted to like someone that is no longer in this world. Once we finally stopped arguing I asked holden what he wanted to do with his life. All he answered with was “If a body catch a body comin’ thro the rye.” He said he wanted to be the catcher that catched the kids that are about to fall

He looked at me and I didn’t know what to think, he gave me that look. That look of sudden disappointment, sudden regret. We sat at Blue Eagle Lounge at about 11:00 pm and he peered over my left shoulder. He stared a little longer and then he ran. How? What have I done? Why do I ruin every single good thing in my life? But then I remembered. I have done something terrible. Something that I will never forgive myself for. Earlier that day. The man I had known but never had a conversation with, came

of “would”/ the introduction is good/ Maybe do a little bit of cutting?/ Title (Beep) (Beep)(Beep)… With the third alarm sound, I wake up. Slowly, I reach for my phone and groan. Currently it is 6:30AM. Although, the sun is up, my room is filled with complete darkness. My roommate sleeps and silence fills the air. For ten minutes, I lie on my bed, staring at the white ceiling, refusing to get up. I secretly convince myself to sleep a little bit longer. However, with the fourth alarm, ringing at 6:45AM

what had happened. Today was the last game of the season. Even though my mom wasn’t there I couldn’t let me or the team down. I soon get on the ice and the buzzer had rung. I get my head in the game and score the first goal. As the game went on longer and longer I soon forgot that my mom wasn’t there. I find myself with 6 seconds left I quickly grab the puck with my stick and I slamshoted it into the net. We have won 8-7. I had gotten the winning goal! As I look up I see someone crying in the stands

Due to unforeseeable circumstances that neither one of us could for see and so with all of this hanging over head I was really hoping to get a laugh from this play, which it did. This was not the first time that I had come to see a play at Boise Little Theater, but definitely this was the first time that I had done it on my own. Which was a tad

I guess I didn’t know him very well, looking back it’s really obvious that he’d have something big and artistic like that.” The longer he spoke of the yacht’s color and beauty, the more colorful and beautiful his own voice became. It picked itself up from it’s empty crawl and gained speed, fueled by new emotion and wonder. This speaker, whoever he was, engaged himself fully in the

“Oh no, I know who you are talking about, Sophia Johnson, right?” “No,” I said, blinking my eyes and smiling, my tone etched with irritation, “I’m pretty sure it’s Sarah Johnson, I believe she had brown curly hair? Gees did nobody remember me? Remember Sarah Johnson! “Oh, you mean the girl with brown curly hair, kind of smelled like cheese?” What? No! Lairs! I always showered every morning! My shampoo scent was green apples! I always used deodorant! I didn’t even have cheese in my lunch!” “Oh wait

boots hit the ground. He was toting a toy popgun and my Little Marcus’ eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as he squealed with delight when his uncle Willie picked him up and threw him into the air like he always did, especially when he was about drunk or in a good mood. However, this time he almost dropped Marcus and it severely pissed me off. It was all I could do not to give him a good cussing, but in order to once again, keep the peace I bit my tongue and avoided him until he left. I was hoping that