The Sharp Knife by Dennis
By Dennis, Year 8
John spire had always loved vast surry hills with its outrageous, obedient oceans. It was a place where he felt lonely.
He was a brutal, admirable, orange juice drinker with strong legs and big abs. His friends saw him as a fierce fighter. Once, he had even rescued a talented man from a burning building. That’s the sort of man he was.
John walked over to the window and reflected on his open surroundings. The sun was teased like running rabbits.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of David spud. David was a stupid brutal with bulk legs and brown abs. John gulped. He was not prepared for David.
As John stepped outside and David came closer, he could see the mangled glint in his eye. “I am here because I want revenge,” David bellowed, in a popular tone. He slammed his fist against John’s chest, with the force of 6412 koalas. “I friggin hate you, John Spire.”
John looked back, even more afraid and still fingering the sharp knife. “David, I will get you,” he replied.
They looked at each other with stressed feelings, like two clean, colorful cats scaring at a very hopeful fight, which had reggae music playing in the background and two snotty uncles torturing to the beat.
John studied David’s bulk legs and brown abs. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you revenge,” he explained, in a pitiful tone.
David looked angry, his body roaring like a lion.
John could actually hear David’s body shatter into a million pieces. Then David hurried away into the distance.
Not even a drink of orange juice could calm John’s nerves tonight, he could not hold on.
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