Evaluation of Eli

As one man’s life connects with countless others, it brings out their true colors. Eli, a short-story written by ‘Vincent Lam’, depicts the tale of unexpectedly shady characters, and their interactions within a hospital. The story initiates with two police officers dragging in Eli, their hysterical drug abusive captive, to a room where a seemingly regular doctor will nurse his gaping head wound. The author uses stereotypes, irony, and foreshadowing to paint the mural which is Eli.

            “The man in cuffs,” Eli, “with his wrists behind his head,” classically portrays a captive of law enforcement. While the police have his “arms twisted high,” they demand that he “behave.” All the while blood, a “”thick opaque” dribbles down his face. The idea is truly stereotypical. There is always speculation over the overpowering demeanor of law enforcement. Cases arise in the news, social media and printed moveable type. In Eli their abuse is dramatized, scouring blood not only on Eli’s face, but on the reputation that local authority upholds.

            Doctors, they’re the perfect picture of health. They pledge to heal the wounded, and worship life as if sacred. But in Eli, as Dr. Fitzgerald “places the scissors” beside “Eli’s cuffed hand,” he tempts fate’s hand to murder, only egging Eli further down a destructive path. The use of irony is astoundingly violent in the novel. For as he places down the scissors, “malevolent [thoughts]” stir within doctor Fitzgerald. He goes against his ethics, and purposely endangers another’s life.

            As Dr.Fitzgerald sees that the “scissors [are] gone”, one can accurately assume the worst will happen to the 2 police officers, escorting him to a barred confinement. And as the “speeding police cruiser with sirens on, [blazes] towards the hospital,” one does assume that their thoughts have come to fruition. The use of foreshadowing is used to lead to the climax. And as the cops drive away, the wretched tale of Eli, is complete, with one final stroke.

Parallel Structure

           

My name is William Giles Lester Wright. My name is speed, power, and focus. And I just ate your dog. Born on the eve of November 5^th, 1995, I am the messiah. Praise me! Praise cocoa skin! Praise my feet! I walked into walmart the other day and they upped the price of my favorite cereal. That is not alright.

I am versed in several types of sign language. The stop sign, rosedale boulevard, all have been concocted by these battered fists. These eyes have seen the darkness of the Vancouver riots. These hands have grabbed the very essence of life. And this mouth, with these lips, has have had more influence than Helen on Troy. Thy bosom, bellows through the mountains, thundering with rage!! And every now and then I talk to my sister Samantha on the phone. She goes to Queen’s university now. She says it’s alright.

Malinteripe, conrutation, gamloodrondle. Fascleflop, iopenrulan, hamrenhoggle. These are words I made up because I can. I can make up words. I can flintendrop. I can make you eat. Because, because I am Mohmar Ghadafi. I dictated the Egyptians, Dictated the heavens, Dictated god himself. And when Eve ate my apple I made sure she paid the price. She now mops floors in Safeway.

If you looked into my eyes, you’d lured into an abyss of azure and grandeur. If you searched my hair you’d find a realm full of dwarfish Nomads, scouring the plains of my scalp in search of herds of zebra. If you cut my toenails, I’d give you a weird look, almost to say “why are you cutting my toenails.” But if you looked at my face you’d realize. You’d realize I’m gorgeous. I’m hotter than grendel on a Saturday morning after a night out. Peace, out. 

Grade 12 assignment yo, Hizzity heyaa

         

It is a time of reckoning. Every aching moment of my life has lead to this. As I head face first into my grade 12 year, a strange concoction of happiness, depression, hatred, and nervousness brew within my cauldron of madness. But no emotion is more grand than the remorse that shall echo from the student body here at princess Margaret. As I plan to wave my wand and create the most epic grad prank ever seen. There will be no escape for the teachers fumbling through the halls, dumbfounded by the uneducated miscreants who inhabit this wretched place. The school shall never be the same. For after 12 long years of abuse from a dilapidated school system, homework from hairy teachers, and over indulgence of McDonalds, it is now time to return the favor. The very idea of a prank so vast is stimulating! A prank so intense, so fierce that bowels shall quiver at it’s dawn, sending excrement up and down the halls. Fecal matter shall coat the walls as if it were applied as the final coat! All the while the children will run ramped, and teacher's will attempt to contain the madness. And all the while I shall stand, calm and collected watching the anarchy in the halls, with a sense of cool, having thought to put garbage bags on my feet.

 

Yo

Sandy Nguyen
123 boomshakalaka
Penticton, B.C.

December 13, 2011
Hoboho
Santa Claus
Lord of The North
HMS Princess Margaret
Santa Baby,

How's the pole working for ya? I really miss you. I wish you didn't come just once a year but multiple times! Maybe 3 times in a day even. I even start decorating 3 months in adavance just so everything perfect when you arrive. And instead of cookies I make you egg fu young. I make you lots of egg fu young. So you already know what I want for Christmas right? But just in case you forgot I put you're egg fu young on a platter with my favorite white asian hybrid William Wright's face plastered on the top just like my pillow and that poster of him above my bed so I can fall asleep staring into his dreamy eyes. I got the picture of him while he was sleeping but dont tell anyone. I tried to get another one for my birthday but he just yelled "OMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING I'M TAKING A SHOWER!" Also, if you could get me a raise at China palace that'd be so perfect like omg. It's bad enough that I confuse everyone in the restaurant by being Vietnamese serving chineese food but the fact is that I get paid $12.00 an hour and it's not enough to pay for all the cd's from asian boy bands that I import from Korea.

Yours truly, xoxo gossip girl

On a Poet's Whim

If I could offer you my....
Well thats just it
What do you want!
I could bring you the moon on a lasso conjured from the very heavens themselves
Woven from the very essence of life that courses through mine and yours,
yes, I could bring you the moon
But is that what you want my sweet!
Your silence says it all! As I stand here 3 feet small I bring you the moon!
This suspense is intense and as I clench I can see in your eyes you're happy
And then I fall to my knees In such a splendid serendipity I pleasantly exert stupidity and believe it!
Yes I've brought you the moon but now its time to smash it
Grab my steel and hack at it until it bleeds Kool-Aid screaming OHH-YEA OHH-YEA
But ohh no! this moon phades to dust and im left here alone
I stand by myself and see you!
not here but there and I feel you everywhere
So I sit as my own piece of shit sitting in my underwear and I think maybe you have what you want
Maybe the Grinch's heart did grow 3 sizes maybe If i do answer kebert xela alex trebek will go back where he came from
And as I open my eyes from my own demise after you ask me what I got for our anniversary I say!
"Honey, I brought you the moon."

Awesome titlating title

     With the death of neil perry, Mr. Keating leaves his students grasping an idea that was once out of reach. Dead Poet's Society directed by Peter Weir depicts the life of 5 boys attending Welton academy under strict rule of the headmaster Mr. Knowlton, when suddenly a new teacher is assigned to their english class and teaches them lessons well beyond that expected from the schoolboard. During this time the boys find that their teacher once belonged to a group called the Dead Poet's Society and decide to form one of their own. The teacher, Mr. Keating, counsels the boys on non-conformity, the Carpe Diem philosophy, and leadership in an attempt to carve these boys into men without hearts of stone but balls of steel.

     Non-conformity, the refusal to act accordingly to accepted standards. During class Mr. Keating told all of the students to march but to make your march, your own. During said exercises the rebellious leader of the dead poet's society Charlie Dalton  exercises his right to stand still. Instead of discouraging this irrational behaviour, Keating encourages it and congratulates his student on his refusal to assimilate and effort to remain individual and unique.

     To live ones life to the fullest is the ultimate goal of mankind. No matter the culture, the location, the poverty, to seize the day is the philosophy of all who walk this earth. Keating tells the boys to suck the marrow out of life. This shows that he truly cares about more than just the minimum standard. He wants his students to excell in a way that won't leave them wanting more out of life. Mr. Keating is more than a scholar of the literary arts but a true testament to human society.  ..........Ran out Of time

     




    
    

BANANAS!

"Aging" by Michelle Disser depicts the dusted canvas painting of life, as it fades through time. "Aging" compares the slow continual prowl of a panther to that of time. "First you find yourself lucky to see the large cat," but it inches closer. Much like time the panther doesn't cease it's bloodlust until satisfied. The hunt's end just "come[s] closer," and closer. Father times arms swing round and round till you're trapped in his arms and the panther, stares you blankly in the face. "You wish it to stop, but it continues." But time doesn't end, the arms unwind and you're left in blissful harmony. But as you're set free from the hands of time, they slowly wind around a new target, and the panther, stalks its prey.

By: Billis Wright