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Sherlock

Humane Sherlock with a heavy ladder,

burned his jeans in a settlement.

He then built a neutral wheelbarrow with his money

to heat his feel-good genitals.

It was a typical Sunday afternoon in London. The shadowy narrow streets of the Upper East End were quiet as the people had hidden themselves away from the stuffy air. It was one of the warmest summers of the decade.

Sherlock was sneaking out of the apartment, trying not to wake his roommate Dr.Watson from his afternoon nap. He was on a mission to reveal the culprit who had kidnapped Mrs. Hudson. The detective slunk through the dark alleys and obscure passageways to the house of the suspect, making sure that nobody saw him. Soon enough, he reached a seemingly deserted building. The curtains were pulled and the front doorstep was dusty, but as he looked around, he noticed a single faint footprint leading to the back door. Sherlock touched the handle, but it was locked. He needed to get in somehow and started to think of a way into the house. Suddenly, he spotted a ladder in the corner of a shed. He positioned it on the wall and climbed to the roof. There he noticed an ajar window and crawled in.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” a deep, brittle voice said.

Sherlock quickly turned around and saw a man pointing a gun at him.

“Hello, Moriarty, how lovely to see you.”

“Always so polite, Sherlock,” Moriarty mocked, “but I’m not here to chat.” He pulled the trigger, but fortunately missed the detective, because Sherlock had expected his move. He grabbed Moriarty’s pistol and managed to wrench it out of the criminal’s hand.

But then Moriarty punched him in the stomach with his elbow and ran out of the room. Sherlock followed him and finally found Moriarty in the kitchen. “You’ll not get away this time!”

Moriarty sneered: “A bit too confident, my friend,” and jumped towards him. They struggled over the gun, during which Sherlock was shoved against a hot-plate.

“Arrrgh, DAMN IT!” Sherlock yelled in pain.

“Better luck next time, dear Sherlock.”

And with those words, he disappeared.

To be continued…

Limericks

With Love to the Wardrobe Ladies

Once upon a morning, I stopped and stared.

Wickedly towards me, she glared.

I then said,”You’re mean and a major doodoo head,”

adding,”you’re so slow that I’d rather be dead!”

I hope someday you’ll hear, what we prepared.

Sexual Frustration (also known as the DC Poem)

Once there was a sexy man

and I really am his biggest fan.

Come and stand under my umbrella!

I wanna be with you, you organic fellow.

Oh, I’m gonna be with you – this is my master plan.

By: Ann, Katharina and Merle

The Room

Me

This room is ideal for me. It’s just the right size, not too big. Though the choice of colour, blue-white-orange, wouldn’t be my first choice, I have nothing against it. The good thing about it, is that there are so many different ledges and places, where I can put all my stuff, as I am used to storing things, chaotically. I’m also a very nostalgic person, so most of my shelves are still filled with toys. The shelf above my desk is filled with model cars. Cupboards are full of boxes, full of legos. There are many different lego thing on my desk, other shelves and even my floor. It’s useful, because I always use them anyway, thus no need to store them and then just take them out again, every time I need them. My room is generally clean, I would say. I have to clean it every weekend, so every week, it starts off very clean, but gets messier as the week progresses. By friday, it is hard to find certain things.

My Mom

This room would be perfect if he didn’t make it twice as small, as it is. i can’t even step anywhere, when I come here. I might step on something and trip or break something. He needs to sort things out – what he needs and what is unnecessary. He could use some of Anthea’s tips. Also, this room would definitely fail the white-glove test. I mean, honestly. Does he really think that dusting only twice a week keeps things proper and clean? And why won’t he put his legos away? Everything would look a lot more tidy, if he just put things in their proper place and organize things. That way, it is easy to find things, if you need them and later you can put them away again.

My Room

1.   I walk into my room and immediately spot the mess. There are quite a few stuff lying where they are not supposed to lie. Fortunately I have quite gotten into the habit of cleaning up the mess when it gets too big. I see a guitar on the left hanging on the wall and two other guitars at the other end of the room.  On the left there is also a big closet and my bed. On my right I have a cupboard full of books, movies, games etc. I also see the mammoth table on the right. On the table I see my computer, a printer and a bunch of other stuff I use daily. It’s a pretty average room, I suppose, but I like it.

2.      I walk into his room. Oh, there is a guitar on the left. Well, I should strum it, maybe it’ll disturb him. He always tries to do something to disturb me when he’s in my room. Why is his room larger than mine? There is still a calendar of 2009 hanging on the wall, and a BIG Manchester United flag on the wall. Why does he have so many books on his table? Oh, the computer! I’m going to change the wallpaper to something funny when he’s not looking. It’s payback time.

My Room

I’m back in my room again. There isn’t a big mess, like one could expect. Nothing is laying on the floor and even the bed is properly made up. I mean, to me my room is always clean and tidy and just the way I like it. I always find everything and all the things are just wHere I left them. I can say that my desk, which I haven’t used lately for nothing but a place to simply put my important things, which I may need the next day. There are a lot of things on the desk, but it doesn’t bother me. I like my room, there is nothing I would change.

Look at this room. Not as tidy and clean as you would expect from a young man. The bedspread isn’t properly on the bed. The doors of the wardrobe are fully open again. And the table. Yet again it is full of things, I am sure, he doesn’t actually need. Why he doesn’t put them away, I don’t know. It is such a mess that I can’t find anything. And why are the curtains not in front of the windows again? What is this on the windosill? Dust. He should clean his room more often than once a week.

My room

Finally I’m home. My sweet sweet bed. I should make my bed since I didn’t bother to do it in the morning. Na ah it’s almost night time anyway. I should change my clothes and put them away but no I have to check Facebook and Twitter and… oh holy lap-top. It is so nice just sitting here behind my desk, in my chair. I wish my room was only bigger but at the same time it’s so cozy. And the colors – yellow, orange, green, blue – it’s like summer all year long. I know I should clean it up and put my clothes away but I just don’t have the time these days. But I promise I’ll do it in the weekend.

Deer Lord, it’s like a whirlwind has passed by your room. There are clothes everywhere. How do you find your things in this mess? I don’t know what do I have to do with you to make you understand. You can’t be so sloppy. You’re a young lady, you have to clean up after you. What will you do if you get married and have a family of your own? You can’t be so messy. (Grandma)

My room

From my point of view

There is no place better on Earth than home. But there is one place that is even better, and that’s my room. My room is like a sanctuary, like a haven to me. It’s known me through the best and the worst and it suits me. It’s thoroughly me. There isn’t one single thing in this room that isn’t me (and if there is, it probably goes to its rightful place quickly). In my room I feel like home. I sleep best in my own bed. I write the best essays behind my table. I look best when looking myself in my own mirror. The best in me comes out in my own room. It’s pink, it’s girly, it has a calendar full of cats, it has a closet full of clothes, it has my boyfriend’s photograph, it has a huge bookshelf of books I haven’t read yet or will never read again and it has a mirror that is lightened better than any other mirror in the whole world. My room is awesome.

 

From my sister’s point of view

Ooh, Hanna is not home! Why don’t I just casually walk into her room … and maybe look around for a while. There’s that enormous closet of hers, I wish I had one like that, but no, the drawer, it’s full of shiny things, but the bookshelf, yes, I probably want to read one of her compulsory literature books, they’re so awesome, I don’t understand how she doesn’t like them, but first! The cupboard. I should try on this lipstick and this mascara – she doesn’t mind, I gave that to her – and why don’t I turn on the lights of her mirror – oooooooooooooh! It’s so bright! I’ll just try that eyeshadow … and that one, too … wait, but the nail polishes! I must try the blue and the yellow and the green one! But I can’t try them all at the same time … hmm … I’ll just take them to my room for a while, I’ll take them back, I promise! Ooh, the earrings! These match perfectly with this makeup! Oops! I think I broke one … oh, never mind, she probably won’t notice, I’ll just put them back there. I almost forgot – the closet! I must try on this dress and this blouse and this skirt and I never knew she had that blouse, it should fit me, I’ll take that too, and how about these pants? I’ll try them on in my room, I’ll return them later, put them back into the closet, she won’t even notice. I hope. Ah, never mind, I’ll take everything, if she wants something, she can get it from my room!

 

POV

From my point of view
Oh my god my room is such a mess – just look at the desk – random school assignments everywhere and that awesome mug, with a propaganda poster printed on it, still has some coffee left in it from YESTERDAY. Why the hell do I still have my old sketchbooks on the tiny table beside the desk? They’re supposed to be in a drawer! Not to mention the school books on the floor, well, at least they’re in neat stacks. It’s easier to pack my bag in the morning this way. Enough about the mess now, I’ll clean everything up during the weekend.

Looking over my computer I can see the presents I got from my friends for my birthday – 3 books with motivational quotes in them (coincidence…?), a couple of cards, roses made out of paper, an empty “cannabis beer” bottle with a couple of cents in the bottom (poured it empty, because beer tastes gross derp), and a robot necklace. Besides the birthday presents there’s also an empty “MANNA” container, the blue hair dye I accidentally bought, the package it was in, and a bobble-head coconut turtle. The shelves are right next to my super-comfortable bed and on the wall next to bed I’ve put some postcards, a poster of one of Mucha’s paintings, two birthday poems from Maili, a random doodle to fill space, and the political map of the world in order to spend the times I can’t get any sleep “productively”. Next to my bed is my white bike piled with clothes. On the windowsill are several house plants, and um yeah.. there’s also a TV I sometimes use to play video games, but otherwise just collects dust, a bunch of pens, markers, pencils in cups on the desk, a mirror, shelves, drawers – average room stuff.

I like my room a lot. I mean, it could be bigger, but it’s still nice. I’ll be slowly filling the wall with stuff and buy more plants for either the balcony connected to my room, or.. for other surfaces. My room’s got some ugly furniture actually, but it doesn’t bother me much, I mean, as long as it’s not broken it’s all good. At least the walls and the ceiling are better than in the last apartment (it sounds weird, but that stuff actually matters a lot). There’s actually a lot of nostalgic items in my room, think I live in the past or something.

From my father’s point of view
This room is kind offff….. messyyy…. buuut….. okayyy…..

My Room

The comfortness of my room is visible from the first look, it is reasonably big, although it could always be bigger. The whole room is pink, the tapestry, the beds. It was really bothering me at the beginning but I got used to it. The soft pink bed, with a mountain of pillows and huge, striped tartan, is my favourite place. During the day it is usually covered with the clothes and things I decided not to wear in the morning but I think I clean it up later but I usually just throw them on the chair. I do clean, but just not after school. next to the wall I see a wooden desk and some drawers, filled with very important things organized only in a way I can find something. The biggest thing in my room is the closet. It is huge and with a mirror on the door, where my mom  ´thinks she can put things without me noticing it.

 

The room is awfully small, cramped even. How can she live here. The desk is so tightly filled with all sorts of things and the chair next to it, it`s unbearable. I`ll have to tell her to finally clean it. How can`t she wash her dirty glasses, they are on the corner of the desk. The bed is the worst thing in the room, the pillows are covering the bed, how can she fit there, and it is so hard.

The Room

Welcome, to my room…

What on earth is going on? Coming back from school, I would love to just lie down and take a nice long nap, but noooo… Things are everywhere, just things, that I don’t even knew that I had. This is so frustrating. My room is my one and only domain where I carry out various leisure activities such as studying, watching films and television, listen to music, talk on the phone, surf the internet, etc. That is the exact reason, I am so sick of it; I spend so much time in my room that it becomes suffocating. One of the only things I like about my room is that it is painted all yellow, which is quite nice, because it makes my room look visually bigger, but other than that – psh…

My school things are just all over the place, I wonder, how am I even able to find something amongst all that mess. On weekends, I clean, not thoroughly, but I do clean some of this mess.

BUT, it is my personal shelter and basically a second home. It is one of the only places where I can think and be myself. Outside of those walls are people, like my parents and friends, who place ideas in my head and make personal decisions for me.  In a space so small, it gives me a sense of security and secrecy. It is a place where no one would hear what I think about others and how I view the world.

And I am thankful.

 

From the point of view of a friend.

If this room should be the heart of this home, then this house is in serious trouble, she thought, as she turned into a small cramped room. The walls were light yellow, like the insides of a sour lemon and the mossy green carpet reminded her of an atrocious pea soup that she used to hate so much.

There is an old proverb which states “When you are a child, your room is the world to you.” I believe this should be a very true statement and should apply to most children. In a room of his or her own a person can become whatever he or she likes and make their surroundings fit that idea or “theme” if you will. But, this room, this room has neither emotion nor a thorough “theme”. Actually this place looks more like a bomb hole: every schoolbook and – sheet is scattered around the room with disrespect and contempt.

She begins to randomly open some drawers, cupboards and exploring their content. She starts to find some pictures: mostly people she doesn’t know, but these pictures seem to be full of life and good memories. The more she mauls in the room, the more warmth and affection she sees around her. Everything is in its rightful place and this room begins to look a lot more homely and loved.

This seemingly lifeless room with its small files is a crude catalogue system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory can’t match.