As we discussed in class, use all the following nouns in a piece of writing that (at least tries to) makes sense.
Orchid, garlic, sushi, kiwi, persimmon, high heels, diamond, iron.
Have fun! See you in 2010!
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About Me
- Brad
- Former adult teacher who loves island beaches. Happy homebody and family man; once devoted dog owner, now without Tashi, my Tibetan Terrier. I prefer the absurdity of the imagination to the absurdity of imagining nothing.
4 comments:
Paolo looked around carefully to make sure he hadn't been followed. Then he gave a firm "knock, knock-knock, knock" on the door. A small panel on the door opened and a gruff-sounding voice asked, "Password?"
"Orchid," he replied.
The panel slid closed and the door was opened by the gruff-voiced man, half-shaven and rotund. He didn't look the type to be messed with. He stood aside silently and squinted at Paolo. Paolo gave a quick nod to him and stepped inside the room. The joint reeked of garlic.
"No doubt from Uncle Rico's famous linguini," he thought.
Three other shady-looking men in dark suits sat at a small table in the middle of the room. But no pasta was to be found anywhere. Instead, there was a large platter of sushi laying on the table.
"Hey, Johnny. Sushi?" Paolo asked.
Johnny answered, "Graziana's favourite. Eh, what can I say?"
Just then, Graziana came from the back of the room, walked past Paolo, and sat down. She smelled like kiwis and persimmons. Exotic.
"Wow, she's a beaut, " he thought. "Fishnet stockings and red, spiked high heels to boot."
"Well, you got the goods?" Johnny asked him.
" 'Course I got 'em," Paolo said. He set his suitcase on the floor and opened it up.
"How the heck did you get through airport security?" one of the other shady men asked.
"Simple," Paolo said. "With this." He produced a travel iron from his suitcase.
All the men looked at each other.
"Ya' mean ya' hit the guards over the heads with it and got away?" the second shady guy chuckled.
"Naw," Johnny told him. "Our boy's very resourceful. Aren't ya' Pao-Pao?"
Paolo smiled. Graziana smiled too. He released a small switch on the iron and the bottom plate slid right off. He dumped out a little, black, velvet pouch into his hand and opened it up. He poured out about thirty small diamonds and one large, purple diamond. He held up the purple one for all to see.
"Wheeew!" Johnny whistled. "So that's it, huh?"
Paolo grinned. "Yup. This, gentlemen, is the 'Purple Heart'. The rarest of all diamonds. The 'Holy Grail' of jewel thieves."
Amy loved to iron. As she ironed she gazed at her high heels, kicked off the night before when she arrived home with a new diamond ring sparkling on her finger.
John wasn’t perfect, she knew, with his fondness for fried garlic. But he did like sushi and that was a plus. And the orchids he’d given her instead of the more standard bouquet made her swoon (just a little).
And once, he’d impressed her with knowing the rank, musty smell of persimmon hanging on the neighbour’s boulevard tree and he’d gently corrected her mistaken idea that kiwis grew on trees rather than on vines.
A perfect husband!
As she watered her orchid, she thought of her beloved fiancée, because when he proposed to her, he simply gave an orchid instead of sparkling diamond ring in a sushi bar. She could’ve knee kicked with her high heel, but she couldn’t because before he knelt down on his knee, he was eating garlic despite of his allergic reaction. So here she is, watering her orchid, and there he is ironing his shirt with persimmon and kiwi spray.
If Garlic is a rude and smelled man in food world, then Sushi must be a particular lady who always pays attention on her ironed dresses and high heels. Miss Kiwi would be a girl sating at her soft couch daydreaming a handsome prince proposed to her with a 10 kilo diamond hiding in a bunch of luxury orchid. As for Persimmon, she should be a middle age fat mummy, warm and sticky, just like me.
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