The Proposal for Parks

I recently obtained Writer’s Blocks for Writer’s Block from my grandma. It was Mrs. Farnsworth’s idea to use it for our journal topic today.

My words:

Doctor, boy, to, ouch, the, clamor, rides, hoped, flesh, lurid, left, hmmmm, he, hero, we, heart, opens, lots, sweet, bank.

I’m here to tell you about the tale of being a boy. The tale of playing at a lurid park. With an enormous red slide, a gold merry-go-round, and the brightest sky blue swings you could find. This is no ordinary tale though, for this is about a painful time in everyone’s childhood.

“But mooooommmm I don’t want to go to the bank,” the boy protested, “I want one more ride on the merry-go-round. Jake rides it all the time!”

“Don’t clamor, Joseph,” that’s what mom said. I bet she was thinking something along the lines of I hoped he wouldn’t be such a pain in my ass. (I wasn’t allowed to say that word; I had to say rear end or caboose. I learned my lesson when in the supermarket this big round lady was in front of us. She had such a body odor that even the flies were dying. I mean, it was blazing out and this lady has the nerve to reach into her blouse, pulling out a $20… enough with that I’ve gotten all off topic now.)

Back to my story, mom stated, “Don’t clamor, Joseph.”

She yelled for Jake and I to move it and get in the station wagon, or the family mobile, or she was leaving. Man, we went a runnin’. First, Jake left. He jumped off the monkey bars. Second, I flew off the merry-go-round.

“Ouch! Mom!” I screamed that. I hollered that to Jesus, yacking into the heavens. My arm and hand burned. My arm was on fire. Numb. My wrist went numb.

Well, needless to say, there was a lot of blood and Mom didn’t go to the bank that day.

It wasn’t fair either; Jake only scraped his flesh.

“Oh my sweet!” Mom.

The ride to the ER was fun… We sang songs to help distract me. It helped lots.

The doctor examined me. He scrutinized. Listened to my heart, took my pulse, did doctor stuff, yup, that’s what he did. “Hmmmm…”

“What?” my mom said, worried.

“I’ll have to take some X-rays, but it seems your son-”

“Joseph…”

“-Yes, Joseph seems to have a shattered wrist, and his other shoulder seems to be dislocated,” replied doc.

After he popped my shoulder back into place I thanked him. He was my hero.

So this was my tale of being a boy and playing at a wonderful playground. I am now a doctor, and even though kids get hurt at parks. I can tell you they can get hurt at home too. I, therefore, support more parks for kids to have fun and be healthy at. These children can exercise. These children can be social. Get outside and play, for it is accelerating fun. Remember be careful. ¡Tener cuidado mis niños! Be careful my children!

 

 

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