Rocky Road

January 3, 2008
By
As I looked to the right I saw a happy family, gingerly pushing their cute little baby in a stroller. “Awww” I thought, that’s so cute, look at the little baby’s pudgy cheeks! Until they pulled over to the grass, because baby made Boom-Boom. They had sort of disgusted looks on their faces through the whole ordeal, but when they were done they just threw that icky, gross, boom-boom-filled, smelly diaper on me! “Ewww, gross, who would do such a thing” I thought loudly to my self, and then it dawned on me. How could I Rocky Road, right off the four seventeen exit route 24, possibly make pollution cease? And then it hit me! No, it really hit me someone just threw a coke can at me, they didn’t even drink all of it, wasters! Come with me as I explain to you, how pollution affected my once beautiful self, and how pollution has affected my friends.

Well, for now, let’s rewind and I’ll introduce myself. My name is rocky road; I am paved right off the four-seventeen, exit route 24. My founder, pulpy juice, a well known ice-cream maker, and noted highway beautification devotee, created me with his whole heart. He loved me, but when I was only three years old, he accepted a job out of the country, Australia to be exact, and left me all alone. Of course he trusted the loyal, proud people of California to take good care of me, but after two years they forgot all about me. At first, I was so depressed, but then I met lots of new friends who took my mind off pulpy leaving. Some of my friends were, chuck, the chubby chipmunk, Vernon the vulture, Wally, the worm, Cory, the couch, and Timmy the trash can. With all these awesome friends, who couldn’t be happy. And then, disaster struck.

We were all talking about political issues of today, when a few human boys came walking down the sidewalk that lines my beautiful self. We all scattered, for we know the dangers of little human boys. We had heard tales of how they pick up harmless lizards, who have done nothing to them, and pull their tales off! How messed up, right? Just as those horrific stories flashed into our minds, sure enough they pick up Wally worm and start tugging at him. Now, Wally has a digestive tract disorder, and if any abrupt movement is made to his stomach he will barf. So when these boys started tugging on him, he of course barfed. With that they dropped him and then the other one stepped on him. We all watched in horror as they scoffed and strode off like nothing had happened. When they were out of site, we all rushed to Wally’s side, and sure enough he was dead. We grieved for days, but after so many people had stepped on him, in the days following the tragedy, his mark was soon gone.
Once upon a time in my short life of only fifty years, I have tossed, turned, and pulled my nonexisting hair out over the rising issues of today. Animal and inanimate object abuse is my number one priority, but following in a close second is pollution. You see, I am a proud road, but it is hard to brag when you have gum all over yourself, and over grown weeds all over your sidewalks. When I was once paved on this delicate California dirt, when dinosaurs (like in Jurastic Park) roamed the land (okay, so I wasn’t paved delicately, and dinosaurs didn’t roam the land, but come on use your imagination), I was a beautiful newly paved road, standing flat, proud to be Rocky Road, right off the four seventeen, exit 24. My owner is Pulpy Juice, the famous ice cream maker and highway beautification devotee. He made me so that his family could get to the ice cream shop in a car rather than have to walk on foot, (they were rather large). I had flowers lining my sidewalks, I was sleek, black, but not so shiny, people loved to ride on me. I was popular, just between you and me, I think that that chick, flower blossom lane was totally checking me out.

Whenever people would speed, one of my best friends deputy bob, caught them, and justice was served. I loved it when high-speed road chases went on because it was like cable, except without the blocked channels. When people would speed, or liter on me he would get mad, and stressed. I didn’t like for my good friend bob to be mad and stresses, so I tried to calm him down, nothing worked. Two months later he was shipped off to Hawaii for vacation and counseling. Another one of my good friends, Chuck the chubby chipmunk, got stuck in a coke can once. It was horrible; finally a human picked him up, and had to cut the can to get chuck out. How chuck got in there none of us know.

Now that I have shared with you how I used to look, and how pollution has affected me and my friends, and how animal and inanimate object abuse has brought much pain into my life. I only hope you will change, and help in the fight against pollution and animal and inanimate object abuse. That includes, not throwing things on your beautiful roads, not throwing trash out your window, that’s how chuck got stuck, not killing bugs for pure pleasure, keeping your local roads clean and not using as much gasoline. Thanks for helping!!!!!





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