Nuthing lik a colr war

Since everyone else seems to have already written a PT book, I thought I'd give it a shot. See, 5-8 grade girls recently had a color war (which I was in), so I thought it'd make pretty good for booking (whatever). Here goes!





Nuthing lik a colr war



by igwana



this book belogs to igwana



In the morning, I cheer

My tem dosnt lik to, not vere



the cheerledrs sleep late.



I forgt to poot on my costum

My captn gets mad.


"war aaa my lines is?"
"back in tem bas, that is war it is"

(What's going on on this page?)
(That's me klutzing out during our team themesong)
(What's going on in the cage?)
(that's the judge cage)
(the judge cage?)
(Yeah! the judges like to be up there!)

"AAA!"
"dont wory, we dont hav to memoriz them al today"

(Here I am praticing our cheer)

"Hmm?"
"Wat cind of scor is this?"
"You didnt get a good scor on this gam"
"WUAT?!"

(What's happening on this page?)
(Oh boy, are you gonna quit the team? Do you wanna cheat?)
(No, I think I will stay on the team.)

(What's happening on the next page?)
(dreaming...do..dooo.do..doo..)
(What are you dreaming of?)
(she's dreaming her captains weren't late to the field)

"Urg, wi do i keep getting bad scors?"
"Probabli becuz you dont hav enuf achdoos"

"Hmm...Mabe your cheers ar good
F for 'forgot my lins'
A for 'a jiant hedace.'"

Colr war is mor important
every other day!

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's.....

It's all of them!!!

Sorry, I just couldn't resist!

I bet I'll regret this later, but whatever. It was fun!

Center- Serena/ Sailor Moon

bottom right- Mina/ Sailor Venus

bottem left- Lita/ Sailor Jupiter

top left- Amy/ Sailor Mercury

top right- Ray/ Sailor Mars

Brace yourself!

I have gone to the hospital recently. I have also gotten some X-rays recently. Noticed where I'm going with this? Anyways, I have a 'special gene-'disease'' called scoliosis. I think my brother has it, not very. Scoliosis means 'deformed spine' or something like that, but in any case, my spine has got the wrong idea. It thinks that it's supposed to grow to the right for some reason. No matter how much willpower I put into the matter, my stubborn spine will keep on growing backwards, so we'll have to do something about it! Yes that's right, I need a brace. Actually, I already have the brace, and I've been wearing it for a few nights. It's 'Charleston bending nocturnal brace'. That means I only have to wear it at night for a modest 8 hours. Nothing I can't handle. I snap it on with its totally necessary 5 straps and look in the mirror. Much to my surprise, my head is where I expect it to be, but my legs are barely even on the mirror. I am tilting at like a 30 degree angle here. At least, I think I am, I got an A- on my last geometry test. So I shuffled back to my room and tried to climb into bed. Let me say that it is EXTREMELY hard to move around without bending your back in any way. Try it if you don't believe me. So, once I had staggered into bed, I fell asleep, which was surprisingly easy. 2 hours later, I woke up with a screaming desire to take off my brace. This probably had something to do with the killing pain in my side. I ripped the brace off and realized my chest and abdominal area (or thorax as the doctors say) was unusually sweaty. I remember the doctor telling me the brace is supposed to squeeze me so tight, water comes out the other end. 'Expect to loose some weight' he had grinned ' a lot of it'. I have to wear this thing for at least 4 months.

"Could this go on all day and night? It could, you know, and it just might!"
-PD Eastman. Or Doctor Seuss, I don't remember.

An ode to spring

puddles, puddles, all around,
during spring rains, they can be found,
my little sister jumps about,
landing in the muddiest one, SPLOUCH!

the trees are growing green,
they grow bigger with each passing week,
my sister enjoys trees,
she hugs them rather than play hide-and-seek,

the birds return,
and sing new songs,
my sister points and runs,
singing along,

we sees squirrels climbing,
into the shade of the leaves,
I hear my sister remark,
'is that the chupah?' gleefully,

we ride our bikes,
the wind roars in my ears,
but my sister announces her dislikes,
"the ground is too disagreeable year!"

I see my sister in the backyard,
on the swings, she plays,
while she talks to herself,
about a coloring book maze,

I make my school lunch,
as the spring sun sets,
my sister sits near, hands on her hips,
"what a nice view!" she nipped

This is my ode to spring,
a poem if you will,
spring can be beautiful,
and the PT, wackier still..

Kriah-blunders

I was reading Kriah with the PT one night, and she wasn't pronouncing the Shvah-nas. So I tried to show her how to do it.


"Here the PT, watch. You go cRIah......tiZIveh......kaMIno...

"Um, iguana? I think you're being too dramatic about this."

A piggybank of world-breaking proportions

Lately the PT has been scourging the house at questionable hours talking to herself. I decided to investigate before the usual police riot of having to put her to bed. As I sneaked in the shadows, following her every footstep, I was able to pick up some of her lines;

"No, this one won't do at all"
"What does a girl have to do to get a decent one these days?"
"Hmm....I haven't tried iguana's room. Let's try there"

What was she looking for? The question rang in my head. I tiptoed upstairs, as I knew that was her next destination. I crept into my room and hid in the closet. Soon, the PT entered the room, and shouted a few times;

"HEEEEEEELLLLLOOOOOOOO?!"

My parents were out for the night, and when the PT got no response after five or six yodels, she fell silent and flicked on the room's light. She dug around my drawers until finally she let out a triumphant "ah-ha!". I slipped closer to the closet door to see what she had discovered, and she clutched in her hands a small purse. She pounded the purse a few times with her fist, and threw it around the room, enjoying the tingling sound my spare change made inside. Finally, she unzipped the small purse and remarked:

"Hmm....Well, I don't know who's money this is, but I can take it!"



The next morning, I awoke to see the PT sitting calmly on my legs, apparently waiting for me to wake up. She noticed me and screamed "iguana, my wallet is gone!"

I sat up and blinked a few times.
"You had a wallet?"
"Duh! Didn't you ever notice!?"
"um...no....?"
"well, anyway, it's gone! I had all my money in there too!"
"how much money did you have?"
"er....about three pennies, a quarter, and a dime. THAT'S A LOT OF MONEY IGUANA!"
"okay, okay, I'll help you find it."

And the great journey began.....

A Fair Trade?

pt: Blargh! iguana! You killed my feet! You soaked them to death!

exclaims the pt whilst we walk into the house through the back door.

me: sorry pt. Do you want me to bury them?

pt: no no no. It's no use. They'll never move again!

me: what a shame

pt: well...I suppose they would move again.

me: ?

pt: well...a thousand years from now, someone will probably dig all the dead people up

me: why?

pt: duh! Because in a thousand years, we'll be trading planets with the martians!

me: ?

pt: you wouldn't sell someone a planet full of dead people, would you?