One Act Play- Advice

Addison is a 13 year old girl who attends an exclusive private school. Joe is 20. He is Addison’s older sister’s boyfriend. Joe is driving Addison home from her visit at Stanford, where both Joe and Addison’s sister attend.

(The two stare forward in Joe’s white Volkswagen van, no one is speaking. Addison sits with her hands folded by her lap with a red backpack by her feet.)

Joe: Are you okay kid?

Addison: Ya I guess.

Joe: You look white. Ummm do you need anything?

Addison: A Voss water and some Panera mac and cheese.

Joe: Oh. W- Well I can stop at the gas station if you are hungry.

Addison: No. That’s disgusting.

(The two sit for about 20 more minutes in silence.)

Joe: When do your midterms start for school?

Addison: I don’t know.

Joe: Honestly kid, (Pauses) this ride will be ten times worse if we don’t talk. Talk to me.

Addison: Well what do you want me to talk to you about. You wouldn’t understand my private school problems.

Joe: I may not look too bright, but I do go to Stanford you know. I think I can keep up. What’s going on?

Addison: (takes a deep breath and releases) Fine. I’ll let you try to comprehend my issues. My friend Shauna kissed my boyfriend. And she split her apple juice on my Vineyard Vines Shep shirt! On purpose! I hate her now.

Joe: That sucks (pauses) were you getting along before?

Addison: Well- I mean- ya I guess so.

Joe: You should give her another chance. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.

Addison: (Looks at Joe, surprised)  Why would I do that? She betrayed me!

Joe:  I probably shouldn't tell you this, but, once I got drunk and kissed another girl when I was dating your sister. It was the biggest mistake I have ever made, and I was so lucky she gave me a second chance. Maybe this was Shauna’s biggest mistake.

Addison: What if it wasn’t- what if she does it again?

Joe: Then you can hate her, but for now, try to be friends again.

Addison: Fine, maybe I will. Do you think my boyfriend likes her more than me?

Joe: If he is knows your actual personality, yes.

Addison: (looks away awkwardly)

Joe: Hey- I’m sorry! I was kidding! If he is smart, he will like you better. You seem pretty cool to me.

Addison: Really? My sister should bring you around more often. (Looks away and the silence resumes.)

Picture Perfect 6

With each penny he touched, his hands got dirtier and dirtier. It was his job to painstakingly insect every penny, nickel, dime, and quarter that came to the largest bank in the world. Some would pity his seemingly boring job, yet he found joy in his humble profession. Each coin had a story to go along with it, and each story was so different. The best part was, despite their immensely d different stories, each coin ended in the same place. Day after endless day he examined his coins, looking for imperfections that made them useless. For some strange reason, the damaged coins were his favorite.  They had gone through so much to get here. They had been left on the side of the road, stepped on, forgotten, or thrown away like garbage. These days not many humans on this earth respect the value of the coins like he does. He sees their struggles as if they were people that live alongside himself.  As he sorts through the tireless mound of coins, he pauses while holding a particularly beautiful one. It had been stripped of its face and perforated edges, leaving it smooth and delicate. It reminded him of his beautiful little cousin that has been struggling with cancer for awhile. He wondered what horrible things this penny had to endure, just like his poor cousin Amita. Despite to coins beauty to him, he has to throw it in the bin marked “Heaven”. This is where his boss instructs him to throw all of the pennies that look too worn, damaged, or even a penny that I feel needs to be relieved from its tiresome job. He loves his job, because he gets to play God, even if it is just coins. As he walks down the street on his lunch break, he feels a vibration in his back pocket, and picks up his phone, only to be told that Amita had passed away minutes before. As he thought about the penny, he wondered.

Picture Perfect 5

The streets were winding and perfect, just as she imagined them. The asymmetrical stones fell into place like only an old Italian street could. The midnight black lights decorated the walls and lit up her path on her way to the center of town. She had spent years saving to get here, fighting for each penny that was deposited into her meager savings account. When Katie was young, her mother had given her a book about the priceless streets of Italy. She had almost given up her dream when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. Her savings had almost gone out the window, along with her dreams, but her mother refused the money. Now that she was here, with her mother gone, Katie’s mind was focused on the map in her hand. The maps edges were wrinkled and worn from years of use. Colors fading away from thousands of hands touching, grasping, clutching. Thousands of people like her, all with dreams of Italy. As she walked through the covered portion of the alley, she stopped to look above at the tedious perfection of the ancient bricks. Each of them was placed by a tired, laboring hand many years before. The history here was almost too much for her to believe. Katie had spent so much time buried in her books, and she still never pictured Italy being so effortlessly flawless. As she finally reached the center she watched the people surrounding her. Some were American, some Italian, some Irish, British, Chinese. They all came to experience the beauty of this timeless city. Despite the world’s wars and all of the destruction, people still manage to come together to experience something magnificent. Some radicals have given up on the world, but Katie’s faith in humanity was restored at that moment, seeing the elated faces of various people strolling by. In that moment, no one believed more in humanity than she.

Picture Perfect 4

The ocean-side grass swayed with hope and despair. The dilapidated fence marked the property line that separated the public land and the private estate. She had spent millions on her mansion on the coast with no one to enjoy it with. She had sped through her childhood, rushed through high school, and raced to college and law school. New York was her home until her millions found their way to her. As she sat on her $800 outdoor chair she gazed out to the horizon, vowing to change her ways. No longer could she continue living in the fast lane. Maddie scooped up her blanket, and padded her way up to her crimson suite, decorated with the finest tapestries and paintings. Like always, she is awestruck by the sheer size of her closet, but once the wonder passes she reaches on the balls of her feet and reaches for her coach suitcase on the top shelf. Her maid wanders into the room, flustered with the irregular commotion. Maddie quickly explained away her packing with the excuse of a business trip. Her private jet is ready to take her far far away from her monotonous life. With each step up to the plane she recounts the nothingness of her life. Some people say it was great, but she was so caught up in work and the future that she forgot to live. The pilot asked her where she wanted to go, but she hasn’t made up her mind yet. After an eternity, she proclaims her destination. The pilot looked perplexed but stalks to the cockpit anyway. As Maddie sits at the window she wonders if she could be married right now if she had given all of those guys a chance. Her mind fills with possibility as she drifts off to sleep. The flight attendant gently wakes her as they begin their descent into Topeka, Kansas. She had her assistant find her a job assisting on a ranch, the polar opposite of her previous life. Her mind swims with endless possibility of life. As she begins her first day on the ranch, she is already happier than she was living in her multi-million dollar mansion.

Picture Perfect 3- Test Grade

The days begin young, and eventually grow old like the helpless beings that live them.  Day after meaningless day, she waits on her front porch, she waits for him to return home. His love never comes back to her, it was spent in those endless days in the explosive beaches of Normandy. The only letter she had received was from his commander, notifying her of his tragic yet heroic passing. He had fought bravely, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seemed that they included everything they could just to make her feel an ounce better. The day she got the letter, she was young and fit, and also very pregnant with their fifth child. The tears came like an avalanche, no shoulder could console her. On nights like these she sits by herself on the porch, her loving children off living their own lives, making their own mistakes. She is alone to ponder their life together and apart. She thinks back to the night they met. The lights, the breeze, and the music all drove them together. December 23, 1934 at 6 pm Norah and her friends left for the Rockefeller Center in Manhattan. As the snow descended from the heavens, the three girls walked along the slippery, dirty streets, cars screeching by with their horns blaring. She loved the city, despite its bitter sweet nature. The cold nipped at her nose, taunting it to bleed, like it often did in frigid weather. Finally they reached the booth were they paid for their tickets. The man took their nickels and they made their way in, and spotted a free bench in the shadows of the big open tent. As they sat down to slip on their brand new skates, the crowds began pouring into the tent that was getting smaller by the minute. Norah and her friends hurried out to the ice that they had spent so long anticipating. The moon glowed brightly above the crowd, oblivious to the events occurring below.  As the girls struggled to make their way around the rink, Addison’s gaze flickered over to a tall, handsome, young man that was watching Norah. In light of the admirer, Norah turned her head slightly to attempt to sneak a glimpse of the handsome stalker.  Only as she turned, her face grazed an unfamiliar nose, and her lips were caressed feverishly by warm lips. Norah was awestruck, yet she did not object. The recollection of the great moments of her life hurt, but it was moments like these that kept Norah wishing, wondering, alive. The bright and scorching sun was beating down on her as she sat, pondering. A blue Toyota Corolla cruised by and pulled into the spotless garage next door. As the door shut, Norah was reminded by the day she found out Andy was dead. The dark, ominous, foreshadowing night before, Norah had put her four little angels to bed, and had retired to her own relaxing bed. The moment she sat down a sharp, stabbing pain hit her heart like a freight train. Someway, somehow she knew that the love of her life had been shot down by a German Messerschmitt plane. He had left about a year before, his letters drafted in European trenches left unsent. Children laughing shook her from her daydream. Her experienced mind floated to a new topic, the beauty of the world that surrounded her. No war could tear this away from her. The sun brightened still, until the lovely world faded away, and the heart monitor flat-lined.

Picture Perfect 2- Test grade

      

The floors gleam brilliantly a color similar to that of the sun. The lights that hang above in strands light up the room, hopefully and omen for the entirety of the rest of my short existence. The tables were set to tedious perfection, not a single detail askew. Small yet potent amber flowers sat in delicate vases along the center of the ivory table cloths. The assorted guests begin to arrive, and I watch them marvel at the alluring chandeliers that hung from the oak paneled ceiling. I catch a glimpse of my cousin Ally wearing a ravishing cobalt dress that used to be my own. My family and friends poured in, and I peer at them from my isolated corner of the balcony. The love of my life approaches. He wears the same midnight black suit that he had worn at the alter moments before. His smile radiated throughout the room, and outshined even the prettiest chandelier. He turned his flawless head as he heard his older brother’s voice ring out from across the room. Xander quickly turned back to face me, dismissing the calls of his boisterous and taunting brother. In a few brief seconds the bride and groom are expected to parade down the grand stairs to welcome our guests. My mother stalks out from the dressing room behind us, shoving us down the stairs with her brash voice. As we descend, my shoes clammer against the oak stairs that correspond with the ceiling above to perfection. The entire room stops to look at us, not a single eye is looking elsewhere. They stare up with longing, jealousy, regret, pride. I smile at my best friend, dressed to the nines with stars encompassing her flawlessly applied eyeliner. She waits eagerly to greet the crowd, but also let her personality come out. She has been keeping herself reserved, so I would be the center of attention, like any true best friend would do. This is her time to shine like the stars she used to decorate her face. Xander’s soft spoken brother was given the task of celebrating our marriage, despite protests from the other three brothers. As Sam stepped up to the platform, she turns to smile at me, a smile that reveals her happiness for me, but hides her lingering jealousy. She has spent her days searching for the right man to fulfill her life, yet no one has been able to handle her loud, sometimes obnoxious, sarcastic, yet loving personality. Sam walks towards the x marked on the stage, and begins her tediously thought out address. A few lengthy sentences in, her knee shakes, and she tumbles to the ground and lands with a heavy thud. It happened so quickly that I had not even made a step to rescue my best friend from endless humiliation. Another was able to however. As he stood, he hit his head on the sparkling lights, and his fair hair becomes one with the twinkle of light. His square frames present him as an intellectual that has spent many years perfecting his craft. He glides over to Sam, his hands run along her arms, gently waking her from her hardwood induced slumber. Her eyes slowly open to his caring face admiring her beauty. Never in my life have I seen a more beautiful couple, a more beautiful life, a more beautiful love.

Picture Perfect Images

Picture Perfect 1

The black and threatening clouds overtook the normal clear blue sky. The seas churned and tossed the small research boat like it was paper. The only hope that the crew was given were the quick flashes of light. In the sharp strikes of light, the crew could see the waves that threatened to capsize their vessel. The clouds rolled in and dominated the skies with little warning to the fisherman, as they had forgotten to check the weather report. Gradually, the waves grew more and more powerful, and swept the youngest crew member off the deck and into the raging Pacific waters. He was interning on the boat for another 2 weeks, but his mind was concerned with surviving for another minute. The rest of the crew was hiding below deck, so they had no idea he was gone. Percy could only watch as a wave crashed down and invaded his lungs. He struggled for oxygen, but the water kept coming; the storm had claimed its first victim. For days the tempest plagued the ship, with no thought of ceasing. Guiltily the crew had forgotten about Percy. It wasn’t until the fifth day that Thomas noticed Percy’s absence, but nobody else seemed to care. He was only an intern. The moment after Percy was written off was when the hole sprung. The water raced in through the gap, and in minutes the boat began to sink. The storm had claimed its second, third, and fourth victims without remorse.

Prompt Writing Burst

      Write a short scene in which one character reduces another to uncontrollable sobs without touching or speaking 

       She walks into the bar, looking lonely and lost. He was watching from a destroyed booth with chewed gum covering the bottom of the table. There was a tear in the booth cover shaped like his broken heart. He watched her, wondering if she would even notice he was there. They had split 2 months before, but he never stopped thinking about her curly hair and her blinding smile. As she ordered a drink, a blonde girl approached him, asking for his number. She talked, but he was only paying attention to the girl he loved. He felt a slap, and saw the blonde girl storm away in anger and frustration, but he only cared about Morgan. She felt the heat of his stare on her back, and turned expecting to see a stranger. The room grew quiet, and her heart filled with the remembrance of her love. Maybe they were meant to be together. Maybe their breakup was a mistake. Her eyes swelled with possibility, and the tears fell like a waterfall. She approached him, sobbing, and fell into his strong and forgiving arms.

Irony Story- The Second Table on The Left

Amanda looked on as the popular girls laughed at the small girl in the corner nibbling on an unpeeled grapefruit all by herself. The cafeteria was abuzz with morning complaints and sleepy chatter. Students entered the cafeteria and strolled mindlessly toward their usual tables. Everyone knew not to sit at the second table on the far left. That belonged to Brittany, Alexis, Sidney and Juliet. The kids knew not to sit near them, unless they wanted to be watched and ridiculed. The girl with the banana was new, and didn't know the rules.

Amanda looked on from her small table of friends, all noticing the bullying, but too submissive to say a thing about it. They didn't even stand up for Amanda when she was the target of Brittany's constant jokes and Juliette’s insulting remarks. Amanda wishes she could help the girl. She wouldn’t know what to say. What do you say to the new girl  who has already found herself a cruel group of bullies?

As Amanda sits uncomfortably in her hard grey cafeteria chair, she wonders how anyone could stand to be so cruel. She wonders what that girl with the grapefruit ever did to them, but already knows the answer. They take people down to build themselves up. Tragically no one ever stands up to them, but Amanda wishes someone would. Anyone but her.

Amanda had come to hate those girls over her four years here. The bell rings blandly in the background, sending everyone to start their monotonous days. The bullies stand up and begin to walk to their first period class, forgetting about the poor girl that they just tore down mentally.

That day passed slowly, with the memory of that freshman’s face when she realized the most popular girls in the school were laughing at her fresh in her mind.  Amanda hadn't stopped thinking about her, not even during her AP stats test. She wondered what she could do. She should have stood up to Brittany and her cult. During last block she decided she had to do exactly what she had originally avoided. The plan was set in her head, nothing can stop her now.

The next morning at 7:20 Amanda entered the already crowded cafeteria. She saw Brittany, Alexis, Sidney, and Juliet already sitting at their regular table, already having found another victim. Amanda watched them for a moment, before weaving through the throngs of students chatting with their friends. Nothing can stop her now. She hears snippets of conversations, but she isn't paying attention. Her determination to stand up to the bullies fills her head. Nothing can stop her now.

The girl’s heads turn as they sense her approaching. Their faces transform, all of a sudden serious, and the loud room seems silent. Amanda advances and as soon as she opens her mouth to begin her rant, Sidney cuts her off.

“Hey Amanda! I absolutely love your dress today! It’s like soooo pretty I wish I could pull that off like you do! And your necklace! It’s beautiful!”

Amanda is shocked. She has never heard Sidney compliment anyone, ever.

“I totally agree!” Juliet exclaims, “Come sit, we have an empty chair.”

Amanda has never seen anyone else sit at their table. As she sat down, she was expecting her presence to be awkward and unwanted, but instead she fell easily into their conversation about a new movie that had just come out. Mid laugh, Amanda sees the girl with the grapefruit sit back in the seat she was in yesterday. Alexis notices too, and points her out to the group.

“She looks like she just rolled out of bed and stole her clothes from a retired clown on the way to school, all while applying eye shadow to her eyebrows. They are legit pink.” exclaims Brittany, loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear. Everyone turns to stare at the outcast to see if the statements were true.

The girl’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment as she shoves her face in a book. Amanda has completely forgotten about her previous notion to stand up for the girl as she laughs along. She has never laughed so hard in her life. She has finally found the place where she feels comfortable. These girls and their jokes make her feel like she belongs with them.

Amanda falls easily into the daily routine of meeting her new friends at that same table, at the same time. The most popular girls in the school were no longer only Brittany, Alexis, Sidney and Juliette. People now included Amanda on that list. She never once thought about standing up for someone again, not even as their list of victims piles up without a care.

In May the freshman with the grapefruit that was their victim in late September approached the girls at the second table on the left. Her mind was set on standing up to those horrible girls. Marsha had reached her breaking point when she witnessed her friend be publicly humiliated by the five bullies, all because of a shirt.

Marsha pushed her way through the crowd, struggling because of her height, but finally approaches the table. Marsha expects to be humiliated by Brittany, who usually runs the destruction, but today another girl takes her place.

“Look at her! She thinks she can talk to us!” laughs Amanda easily, like ruining lives comes easy to her.

“I bet she is thinking that we are members of the denim jumpsuit support club! Honey, that meeting is in SSR!” yells Amanda, her words oozing sarcasm.

The laughing continues, radiating throughout the entire room. In a fit of laughter, Sidney knocks over a chair and sends it flying towards where Brittany had just tripped Marsha. The metal base of the chair strikes Marsha’s head with enough force to send her to the ground, knocked out cold.

Marsha blinks open her eyes to five girls’ faces standing over her. The girls immediately calls for a doctor, and when he comes running in, he begins to explain the situation. These girls, named Brittany, Sidney, Juliet, Alexis, and Amanda, are  her best friends. He continues to explain how Marsha lost her memory and it is good that she was rushed to the hospital so quickly. She is lucky to have such caring friends.

War on Terror

Original and Revised Poems

Original Triolet-

Everyone is watching.

You have to be the best

You have spent your life dreaming of this, wanting to do something.

Everyone is watching.

Your future is watching from the sidelines.

You have trained for this moment harder than the rest.

Everyone is watching.

You have to be the best.

Triolet- The Game of Life

Eyes stare with anticipation and peer into your soul,

Failure is ready to call you home.

You have dedicated your life to dreaming of this moment

Eyes stare with anticipation and peer into your soul,

Your future is watching from the sidelines.

You have been bred for this stage,

Eyes stare with anticipation and peer into your soul,

Failure is ready to call you home.

Original Pantoum-

The thunder claps,

the lightning zaps.

The winds howl,

The sky churns with a never ending growl.

The lightning zaps,

the seawall begins to collapse.

The sky churns with a never ending growl,

people hide inside like fowl.

The seawall begins to collapse,

branches snap and roofing flaps.

People hide inside like fowl,

the wolves prowl.

Branches snap and roofing flaps,

the sounds against the windows become more than taps.

The wolves prowl,

Children are alert as owls

Roofs collapse, the damage is washed away and all that is left are scraps,

the thunder claps.

No one ever thought things could go afoul

the sky churns with a never ending growl.

New Pantoum- Storm of Revenge

The thunder claps,

The lightning cracks the sky.

The winds howl,

The sky churns with a never ending growl.

The lightning cracks the sky

The seawall begins to collapse.

The sky churns with a never ending growl,

They cower, unsuspecting of their troubles to come

The seawall begins to collapse,

Branches snap and roofing flaps

They cower, unsuspecting of their troubles to come,

Oblivious to what they did.

Branches snap and roofing flaps,

The sounds against the windows become more than taps.

Oblivious to what they did,

With my next strike, they will be left with nothing.

They learned their lesson,

The thunder claps.

A force of nature can never be tormented without a price,

The sky churns with a never ending growl.

Original Tanka-

The darkness descends,

A new day gone forever,

Never to be seen,

Through the night, all is quiet,

Only stirred by the sunlight.

New Tanka- The Passing of a Day

The darkness descends,

A new day lost forever,

Never to be seen,

Through the night, all is renewed,

The world revived by sunlight.

Multiple Tones: Disgusted and Awestruck

Tone: disgusted

The dirty, grimy, litter filled streets are what makes up a city. The thousands of people bumping into each other on the crowded sidewalks, which are dirtied with the crushed dreams of the people who sleep there at night. As I pass the alleys I see a man with ripped clothing begging a wall for forgiveness. The frigid winds blow the poisoned air which was infected by the nearby factories that have no regard for our planet. As I walk out from under the shadow of the large and overpowering skyscraper, I enter grey gloom of the house districts. Houses that are all crowded together, with no privacy. I cannot fathom living a life where I look out my bedroom window and all I see is brick. The city, where you can buy a disgusting hot dog, heroin, and get cancer from the toxic air all in one square mile.

Tone: Awestruck, grateful

The hustling, bustling, never-ending streets are what make up a city. The thousands of people all together, enjoying each other’s company walking carelessly along the streets, which are worn with the success of the people who walked them before. As I pass the alleys I see a man with ripped clothing receiving help from a selfless volunteer. The refreshing winds blow the air that both the poor and the wealthy require to live. As I walk out from under the merciful shadow of the large and beautiful skyscraper, I enter the friendly community of the house districts. Houses that are all crowded together, with only room for neighborly love. I cannot fathom living a life where I look out my bedroom window and all I see is nothing. The city, where you can buy a delicious, had cooked hot dog, a designer handbag, and experience the kindness of the human race all in one square mile.

4 Sentence Analysis

In the excerpt, the narrator uses derogatory diction, multiple point of views, and detailed imagery to establish tone. Within first and second point of view, the narrator creates images of scientists experimenting pointlessly, while using negative words such as wrenches, cruel, nastiness, and stupid. The narrator establishes a judgmental, criticizing and disapproving tone in order to show his contempt of scientists and those who make a living without working physically. Overall, the working class narrator is expressing his views on the irrelevance and pointlessness of experimental science and intellectuals.

200 Word Sentence

You walk into school, immediately search the crowd for your group of friends and find them laughing louder than you thought possible, as soon as you come within earshot, you smile at the fact that they are yours, and no one else’s, the dull and pressuring sound of the bell rings out, compelling everyone into a frenzy, A block begins, and you observe the class frantically studying for the upcoming vocab quiz until Mr. Taylor quiets you down and writes your words on the board, the period drags on, but takes a turn for the better when you are given time to work on your modernizations, this takes up the rest of our class time, and the bell rings and you make your way across the school to Spanish; the class seems to be longer than first because you are doing nothing, just sitting there waiting; the bell rings dismissing your bored class, and now it’s time for gym class in the weight room, this gives you an opportunity to relax and work out all of your stress, the only problem is the fact that you have to wait for fourth lunch, after a good workout, the bell rings once again, and it’s time for lunch and then G, the class that you have every day- after 53 minutes the bell rings and you are free. 

Angry Letter

Dear Chris Columbus,

I am writing this letter to you, to not only scold your poor decisions, but also to express to you my utter anger and frustration. I have never seen anyone make poorer decisions regarding a movie.

You had one job, which was to turn Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series into a successful movie franchise. Everything was laid out for you, yet you still managed to screw up the entire plot line, setting, and characters. Every single necessary detail was written down in a book. Did you even read it? I highly doubt you did, considering everything that possibly could be incorrect, was.

Honestly, is it hard to have the main character die her hair the correct color? Even a wig would be a better option than letting her brown locks remain. A key detail in the books was Percy’s sea green eyes, and were they green in the movie? No, of course not. Colored contacts are too difficult apparently.

Another thing that really bothered me was the fact that you set yourself up for failure when you casted the main characters. Percy and Annabeth are both eleven in the books, yet you casted 18 year olds. How can the actors grow up throughout the movies like they are supposed to?  I often wonder what drug you were on when you made these decisions.

Camp Half-blood was a key location in the books, yet you couldn't manage to get a single detail about this camp correct. It is supposed to have blueberry fields, a big open hill with a semi-circle of cabins, and a big pine tree at the top of the hill. In your poor adaptation, the entire camp was in the middle of the woods, with the cabins in no particular arrangement and a tree that didn't stand out from all of the rest.

Also, I would like to remind you that most of the plot of your movie was not the same as the book, which reinforces my thought that you haven’t read the books. They were best sellers, so why do they need to be changed?

Percy, Annabeth, and Grover’s journey brought them to the Lotus Hotel and Casino, which was about the only thing similar about their journey. Even this, however had mistakes like everything else in the entire movie. In the book, this Lotus Hotel was not a casino, but a giant game room designed to lure kids, which seems a lot more cynical and interesting. Your horrendous adaptation made it an actual casino, nothing like the one in the book.

There was one decision that I thought you did well with. This was the casting of Grover, who was very fitting of the part.  He was exactly what I pictured for the part, which got me through the movie.

The happiest moment of my life was the moment I heard that you had not been asked to return as the director of the second film. I have nothing but praise for the second movie adaption. Thor Freudenthal managed to dig himself out of the deep hole you dug. There will not be a third movie made, and I believe that this is entirely your fault.

I hope that you are pleased to know that you tinted the Percy Jackson legacy with your work. You should know that even the author of the series, Rick Riordan, refused to watch the movie. I hope you learned your lesson not to mess with the books, because they are always better than the movies. You can expect my medical bill following this letter. I screamed so much at your tragic excuse for a movie, that my throat required intensive surgery.

Sincerely,

Kelly Nelson