My Imitation of Melville’s Style
Call me Ishmael
Call me Michael. Alas, as my wont, I arrived back at Fenn with a few minutes to spare before the dull customs of an orthodox school day. As I mentioned before, I had some time, so I decided to make use of this and work on my tedious application forms for Secondary Schools. As I walked in through the main entrance of the Library I saw the perfect armchair to sit in. It’s checkered shades of red enticed me, as I have a natural tendency toward red. Apples, cherries, tomatoes, strawberries -- all appeal to me in a specific way. As for the most former and second to last, their vibrant primary colors of red entices me to these fruits, as I indulge in it for its appearance, while at the same time it returns to me a sweet, tart, delicious flavor. As for the other two, the appeal is solely in aesthetics, the flavor is not nearly as delightful. Reverting back the original topic, I was prepared to do work. Alas, once I opened my electronic device, a despicable individual took the nerve to distract me. Lukas his name, obsessed with odd jokes, was in a desperate situation. As usual, he had not finished his homework from the night prior, and he turned to me for guidance. This was his norm, he never finished his work on time, yet he procrastinated.
“Lukas, get away from me I’m trying to work.”
“Shut up Michael.” he said, in an exaggerated voice,
“You’re not funny.” I replied, and walked away.
I had survived him this time round, but I knew he was the only barrier standing between me and academic glory.