The Assasination of Micheal Armstrong

After a few years past, the boring man from Los Angeles decided to go back to his home in Chile and assimilate to his Latin people again. Micheal Armstrong new it would be a hard challenge because he had not seen his friends in over 40 years, but he was up for it.

Although his wife made dissension, saying that he should not go, because it would be a waste of time, Micheal didn't care, he missed his people. Once he got to Chile, the people immediately started lionizing him. He was loved by everyone except the President, he said Micheal was taking all the attention.

September 1, 1997, the President made a simple plan: to kill Micheal. The worst part was that he knew the consequences of this act. September 2, 1997, Micheal was assassinated in a bridge near the capital of Chile. No one knew who killed him, so they meticulously searched for every detail in the bridge until they found a fingerprint of the president. The people got so mad that they killed the president.

It had to be Holden!

Paulo Alfaro

December 6, 2010

Mrs. Meadows

Periods C/D

Holden, he is one talkative, annoying kid. I was eating in this fancy restaurant called Sushi Itto, right by Central park. I had ordered tofu, sushi, and a lot more. I was eating by myself, calmly listening to the wind blow throw the tress of the park. It was just great. Suddenly I saw a familiar person throwing rocks at a lagoon full of ducks. He had this red hunting hat if I’m not mistaken. He also had this scary grimace while throwing rocks at the ducks.

Minutes later I got this avid desire that haunted me to see who was this familiar person, so I had no alternative but go and find out. I stood up and started walking towards him. Finally I got to him, and immediately I saw who it was, Holden Caulfield, the kid I met in elementary.

“Holden?” I asked, “Is that you? Caulfield?” He turned around and looked at me with this profound, what seemed like an interminable strange attitude.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked with this irascible voice, as if he was busy with what he was doing.

“Paulo, Paulo Alfaro!”

“Oh, yeah you, want to go for a drink?”

“Ok, I guess.” I walked to Sushi Itto with him. He ordered one drink, then 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and a lot more. I was getting scared. I thought he had changed. I was starting to abhor Holden.

I got tired and told him to stop drinking, but it was a bad idea, because he went on this stupid tirade and rebuked me, on something I didn’t pay attention to. He had rankled me, I had enough. I just stormed out of Sushi Itto, it seemed as if I had embarked on a endless journey; I didn’t turn back.

I hate that bastard. He just ruined my day! I totally regret saying hello to Holden, because it ended up putting me into a lackadaisical mood. Although I acted pretty serene, I wasn’t. In an electrifying moment I felt as if I wanted to extricate his mouth from his face in the brusquest way, so he would stop talking so much garbage. This was one awful night with Holden.

It had to be Holden!

Paulo Alfaro

December 6, 2010

Mrs. Meadows

Periods C/D

Holden, he is one talkative, annoying kid. I was eating in this fancy restaurant called Sushi Itto right by Central park. I had ordered tofu, sushi, and a lot more. I was eating by myself, calmly listening to the wind blow throw the tress of the park. It was just great. Suddenly I saw a familiar person throwing rocks at a lagoon full of ducks. He had this red hunting hat if I’m not mistaking. He also had this scary grimace while throwing rocks at the ducks.

Minutes later I got this avid desire that haunted me to see who was this familiar person, so I had no alternative but go and find out. I stood up and started walking to him. Finally I got to him, and immediately I saw him, Holden Caulfield, the kid I met in elementary.

“Holden?” I asked, “Is that you? Caulfield?” He turned around and looked at me with this profound, interminable face.

“Who the hell are you?” Hr asked with this irascible voice, as if he was busy in what he was doing.

“Paulo, Paulo Alfaro!”

“Oh, yeah you, want to go for a drink?”

“Ok, I guess.” I walked to Sushi Itto with him. He ordered one drink, the 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and a lot more. I was getting scared. I thought he had changed. I was starting to abhor Holden.

I got tired and told him to stop drinking, but it was a bad idea, because he went on this stupid tirade and rebuked me, on something I didn’t pay attention to. He had rankled me, I had enough. So I just embarked out of Sushi Itto and didn’t turn back.

I hate that bastard. That just ruined my day! I totally regret saying hello to Holden, because it ended up putting me into a lackadaisical mood. Although I acted pretty serene, I wasn’t. I wanted to extricate his mouth from his face in a brusque way, so he could stop talking so much crap. This was one electrifying night with Holden

Book Review: Bud, not Buddy

Paulo Alfaro

Bud, not Buddy

By: Christopher Paul Curtis

This book, written in the first person point of view, is very funny and exciting, but at the same time very sad. Bud is a 10-year-old boy living in an orphanage in the 1930’s and he has nowhere to go. He just has one personal belonging: His suitcase his mother gave him full of interesting stuff right after she died, when he was a little boy. Inside the suitcase there are very important things for Bud. Things like his blanket, a photo of his mom, a flyer that he is not sure what it is, a pocket knife, and colorful rocks. Bud does not trust anybody and therefore he doesn’t give the suitcase to anyone. One day he took a look at the flyer in his suitcase and it had a name, and an address. From that day on he goes in search of him, thinking it’s his dad. The place he is looking for: Grand Rapids. (The city next to his town.) It will be a dangerous trip. Being a black kid and walking in the streets alone in the 1930’s isn’t very safe due to racism. He travels at night when no one can see him. He meets this very nice guy who is heading to Grand Rapids and is able to take him. He is taken to the exact same place the flyer says. And then he finally meets the mystery man: Herman E. Calloway. Is he his dad? Or is he a random person? Find out!

As I mention in the beginning, this book is funny. The main reason is because of Bud’s character. He had this very funny book he wrote that is all about lying in order to survive certain situations, and other rules he made up according to some strange beliefs he had. He hates to be called Buddy because he knows his name is Bud and his mom specifically warned him to not let anyone call him Buddy because it is a dog’s name. That’s why the book is called Bud, not Buddy; he succeeds because he will always fight for dignity. But it is also a sad story because he is an orphan, his mother died when he was very young, his dad left him when he was just a baby, he is very poor, he barely eats, and many other reasons.

I liked this book because it never got boring and it remained glued to my hands. Bud, not Buddy is one of those stories where the unexpected happens. When you are extremely sure something is going to occur, another thing happens. The protagonist and narrator, Bud, makes an incredible journey to another city alone and reaches his goal. This showed me that when you are searching for something important, not to let go, and never stop.

The Letter

Paulo A.

lucky 47 lane

September 2, 1947

Dear Pupus,

You are my brother man, and I loved you so much, you were the soul of our family's generation. But not any more you self centered crap bag. You encompassed my heart with fear and hate. I know what you did, we all know what you did (the family). I am going to get you hard. I will extricate this situation and be happy again. Just give me that money and everything will be just fine.

You won't escape this time. An anonymous person will soon come to your house. You will have no chance of escaping, because by the time you get this, you will be in jail.

Sincerely,

Mojo Pojo

I Remember

I remember the day my dad told me that we were moving for a couple of weeks, that he was going to remodel our house so it looked nicer. Yes, that was in the start of 2009. I believed it. Two month past and we were still in the temporary home. Dad told me that something went wrong and that it would take a little longer. But again, two month past and nothing.

I remember dad telling me again that soon the house will be finished. And those where the same thing that he told us until today. August of 2010! 1 and 3/4 years!

I realized that when people say something, it actually doesn't mean it is going to happen.

I See The Shinning Stars

Every Sunday

with my dad.

We go sundays only

at nine.

We sit and talk

laying on the garden

just staring at the

deep blue sky

No comets ever

fly by,

just stars,

glowing and glowing

and glowing

Sometimes we don't talk

we just hear the sound

of the wind blow through our body

It calms me down

when I'm worried

mad or

afraid

it's my mini sanctuary