The Dreaded Intent – Food Fight ’14

YAY!  The Write Routine’s Second Annual FOOD FIGHT! in celebration of World Read Aloud Day is here! The object is to write a story up to the moment when a food fight breaks out. And then stop. Then readers please do as Marcie asks, “Read the posted story and all of the comments that precede you. Then, post your comment. Be sure to build on and further the existing story. Your comment should flow. The story should read as if it was written by one person when read from beginning to end. 

ALSO, your comment needs to include at least one word of onomatopoeia and one thrown item of food. Your onomatopoeia must be a word that has not been used already in that story, as well. That’s right. Be creative. “

THE DREADED INTENT

It was a lunch hour like any other at Bacon Elementary, when a chill ran up Mateo’s spine. His hair stood at attention down his bony arms. Cautiously he lifted his gaze, millimeter by millimeter. He dreaded the worst. And sure as a pop-tart is sugary, there she was, staring straight at him. Priscilla Weatherspoon – the meanest, leanest prankster this side of the Mississippi. Her eyes grew smaller as they locked onto his. Slowly, slowly but sure as a mosquito bite, she drew her chin towards her chest and that’s when Mateo saw The Intent, right there under her thick, dark caterpillar eyebrows knit between her tightly pulled braids. Those chesnut-brown peepers were. not. cute. He knew then and there. He had just become her business. It was a speck of a second, but felt like slow-motion sickness. As the sweat started to gather in his armpits, and a heat rose to his ears, he lowered his sandwich with his left hand as he went for the juice box with his right…

Mateo_01-1

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20 thoughts on “The Dreaded Intent – Food Fight ’14

  1. ..hand, juice squelched right into meanie Priscilla’s sour face.

    Oops I did another one of these earlier and forgot the special words

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  2. KATHUNK! It bounced off Mateo’s head, and hit Jamie Frank in the back, and rolled to the feet of the lunch lady! Jamie, picking up today’s special (meatball sandwich)…

    [NOTE: I love the name of the school! I love these writings!]

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  3. . . . placed the small spoon into the cup, tasted a bit of the chocolate glop and thinking, “Mm, this is good. Such a shame to waste it,” Emily picked up Andy’s applesauce instead, dumping it on top Jamie’s head SMOOSH! it drained down his face. Red applesauce faced, Jamie . ..

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  4. grabbed up one of the meatballs rolling across the floor and flinged it at Priscilla’s ear. DONG! it rang as Priscilla paused to reach for more ammunition.

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  5. jumped on top the table, ripped the top off his Hostess cupcakes, balled them tightly and aimed at the back of Mrs. Huntley’s three foot high beehive hair do. WHING, FLING, DING!…Contact! Mrs. Huntley turned…

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  6. Pingback: The Dreaded Intent – Food Fight ’14 | Kid Lit Reviews

  7. . . . around quickly to see who was responsible for such rude behavior in the lunchroom. As she made a pirouette, to reprimand the rascle, Mrs. Huntley’s now one foot beehive hair do, adorned with sticky chocolate crumbs and sweet vanilla goo wooshed about smacking Mr. Ham, the principal . . .

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  8. in the face. WHACK! Mr. Ham hit the floor, dazed and sticky. Just then, Jamie, still oozing applesauce down his chin, slid into Mr. Ham, landing with an OOF! atop the heavy-set principal. Mr. Ham rolled Jamie off of his wide belly and said, . . .

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  9. nothing anyone could understand because much like a roast pig (his namesake), his face was hot-red and one of the meatballs plugged his mouth. Sounding much like the adults in “Peanuts” animation, Mr. Ham yelled, “Mwooo mwamwamwamwa mwaw mweh?!” He then bit into the meatball and chewed. “Not bad,” he said, then ate the other half. “OK, WHO’S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS CULINARY CARNAGE?”

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  10. Mateo ducked out of sight, hoping he would not be blamed. It WAS Priscilla’s fault, after all. Then he saw the juice box, meant for him explode against Mr. Ham’s chest with a loud SPLORT!

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  11. All heads swiveled accusingly to face Mateo. Mateo tried to quickly duck under the table but it was too late. A laughing Mr Ham grabbed the last remaining meatball and lobbed it across the room. KERPLUNK, SLURP, it hit Mateo in the forehead and SLITHERED…

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  12. to the lunchroom floor. Oh, no! Mateo was out of ammunition! Then he spied Emily’s cup of lime jello, untouched. So far. Sliding across the table, Mateo grabbed it and SPLOOK! lobbed it at

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  13. …into Priscilla’s outstretched hand. She closed her fist SQUISHing the meatball. “Hey, Mr. Ham. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” she yelled. “Besides it was Jamie Frank who started the whole thing.” Mateo’s mouth fell open…

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  14. and so did Jamie’s. He remembered being hit by Priscilla’s apple. “NOT TRUE!” he yelled, as he tossed a handful of spaghetti BLORSH covering everyone between him and Priscilla.

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