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"I wish I had a big body Benz and deep blue eyes like Paul Walker. Guys who drive that kind of Mercedes and have deep blue eyes can pick up any girl. Any girl whether she’s Jennifer Lopez or Jennifer Aniston, I told my friends arrogantly. "Shut up and just be thankful for what you have, you ungrateful materialistic child," my friend Jida harshly responds. "I’ll be thankful when I’m driving my Benz and they make colored contacts that actually look real." My smart mouth responded to her. Spoiled would be the best term that would fit me according to my friends. Many would say so since I was sixteen and driving a new 2001 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Not a typical car for most teenagers, especially since I paid nothing for the car including gas or insurance. While I was a very mature child, I was known to be very cocky, foolish, and insensitive. My older cousin Sam, who had just graduated from Baylor with a medical degree, was like a male Mother Theresa. He is an incredibly good-hearted individual who would do anything for anyone, and he always feels the need to preach to me. For some reason he thought he was the "wise-one" placed on this Earth, or like the white angel on top of your shoulder always telling you to go do the right thing. After watching a movie with him where a character in story line died and I happened to giggle about situation, he looked at me scornfully and told me , "Your not required to feel sorry for anyone whether it may be a character in a movie or a real life individual. But you should be thankful for everything God has given you." I just ignored it like I always do and just considered it to be another one of his so-called deep quotes that he reads from a ceral box. A week later, I had just left my friends from Starbucks after enjoying a grande whipped Frappacino. My left headlight happened to go out earlier that night so I replaced the light with a new one carelessly, yet not properly since I didn’t really appreciate the car to begin with. As I was driving home I noticed a really odd smell coming from my ac vent. A smell almost like rotten eggs. "Great," I thought to myself. "just more reason to hate this car." I arrived at home, parked my car in the drive way and walked inside having the odd smell immediately leave my mind. Two minutes after I walked into my house, I heard an explosion like those from the action films. I looked around and wondered if the sound possibly came from some movie on TV. But I noticed none the televisions were on. I cautiously walked slowly, taking small steps towards the door I had entered from. I opened the door slowly as if I knew the explosion was from my car but a the same time my mind was in denial. I peaked around the door like a lost little child. And that’s when I noticed the entire front of my car in flames. The fire reached at least seven feet in the sky lighting up the darkness that once surrounded my house.
Approximate Word count = 2117
Approximate Pages = 8.5
(250 words per page double spaced)
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