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I unsteadily clutched the sky blue tupperware with a star of holes poked in the lid. Inside was a dampened handful of black soil with slimy, brown worms squirming underneath. 'They're just worms' I told myself. 'They don't bite or pinch. Nothing to be 'fraid of'My arms were still very tense as I had the severe fear of dropping my sky blue tupperware and spilling its contents all over the floorboard of the charcoal 1971 Chevy pick-up ("with it's original engine and upholstry" my papa would ass). At 14, I was fearless; ready to conquer the world and Lake Nottely. We turned right onto Pat Colwell Rd. and ventured up the one lane street with no name toward the dock. "In't she beautiful?" Papa would predicatably chime as we rounded the culdesac and backed into the makeshift parking place on the side of the road. I agreed, not just to be polite, it was a gorgeous boat. White with a red racing stripe (even though, being a pontoon boat, it's top speed was around 40) and red astro-turf interior. Now this wasn't my first time out on this boat, but today was different.
Approximate Word count = 738
Approximate Pages = 3
(250 words per page double spaced)
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