More From Grade Seven

I confess to having a wee crush on my grade seven English teacher (who is still very much alive and now a principal at an Elementary school in my neighbourhood and consequently, shall remain nameless).

Initially had a “girl crush”.

Unfortunately, it would seem that her interest in one of our gym teachers (who shall also remain nameless but by way of describing his comb over ‘fro, shall be known to some) was of greater import than nurturing fledgling writers. In fairness, I was still planning a career as a ballerina and so Mrs. … err… “X”, could be forgiven her oversight, though not her taste in paramours.

Writing has gone through many changes in what is and what is not correct. I have experience in Business, Medical and Technical writing and all embrace different sets of “rules”.

I hate rules. This is a lifelong affliction with me (ask my parents or kids) and if you are a lover of rules, please do feel free to bugger off now.

No rules are tolerated here. Writing for personal enjoyment and in particular writing fiction, is an intensely personal thing and quite frankly, as an adult-type person (or so I’m told) I henceforth and forthwith, declare a moratorium on all rules of spellering and grammatification on any of my blogs.  Ever. Ad Infinitum. Until I’m discovered. By Stephen King. We shall commiserate about rules and collaborate on horrificly, harrowing, horror stories.

With a lot of alliteration. Because… fuck the rules.

Back to grade seven. Mrs. R, gave me a B- on a project that in my opinion, contained some of my better stories. I’ve been writing stories since I was… umm… around five years old I think. I have some illustrated books I made (thanks Mum!) from about that time. I threw my pre-teen heart and soul into the stories that were to reflect the project theme: Oceans and Seas (in the last half hour before I had to hand it in) and expected that Mrs. “X” would be pleased, if not impressed.

Quite frankly, I’ve never recovered from that B-. (Only a little facetious)

I hated school by that time; was bullied by boys and girls alike and having made the effort to impress someone who I saw as a kindred spirit, was crushed utterly by that “B”. The “B” incidentally, had nothing to do with grammar but with my half-arsed effort at creating maps. All I can say to that is “Hell yeah, GPS!! My imagination far outweighed my writing skills at the time but I still rather like this particular piece about meeting the Loch Ness Monster. Said meeting has not yet occurred but Scotland is still on  my bucket list.

Without further ado, obfuscation, innuendo, oblique, sarcastic rhetoric, extraneous verbosity, et al: Here is (in its entirety and unedited edition), “The Creature Of Loch Ness”


I was standing on the edge of Lochness in Scotland. All at once to my surprise a monster rose up out of the water and looked at me with his big, green eyes.
“Sir”, I said, quite unaware he was the Lochness monster, “Do you know of any large sea animals that go around Lochness eating fair maidens”?
The ugly creature answered quite plainly and clearly and he said the only animal he new (sic) of was his cousin Herman in Philadelphia. “He has a habit of eating fair maidens when he comes here. After I’m mistaken for him and blamed for his atrocious table manners.”
By now a large crowd had gathered and they to began to question my friend. Little children plunged into the water to play with him. He used his tail as a slide and he could ride twelve children on his back. People stared in amazement, and then they swam into the water to play.
In a few months tourists started pouring in to see the “super, collosal, giant Lochness Monster”. It was quite a show.
The Lochness turned into a beach, all because I had discovered television’s favourite talk show celebrity, Mr. Monster!
I was – pardon me – we were, just packing our bags to go to Paris, when I woke up… and to my surprise, looked up at a monster with big, green eyes.

© K. Tupper, Grade 7, English project composition from “The Wondrous Sea”


Dear John


This week’s challenge from the WDBWP Blog:

This week, I would like you to write a letter – THAT letter you always meant to but you never did; it can be written for yourself or for someone else. In it, I want you to write down all the things that you always wanted to say to those people, or yourself, you wish someone told you when you were younger or in a specific situation. If you are writing to someone else, let them know whats going on, have you changed, what is new from the most mundane to the most deep.

I would like you to write this letter in verse, verse that rhymes.


Let’s have a go then, shall we? Follows is my letter. In rhyme and Elton John’s “Dear John” for good measure.

Dear Perley, Dear Perley
You old mangy dog
If you were able to read
This would leave you agog

You were gunnin’ fer to kill me
Your lyin’ left me with the blues
But I’m still alive and kickin’
And you’re yesterday’s news

Hey Perley, you should have learned
That it don’t pay to be a liar
Did you fart again, what’s with that smoke?
Oh! it’s just your pants on fire

So I’m sending you this letter
Hope it reaches you in Hell
Just to say to you Ole Perley
I’m alive and doing well

I took the nothing that you left behind
And turned it round to victory
I got myself a real man
And that boy sure does love me

The home you stole I can’t get back
But I’ve a new one built on dreams
A place that ain’t been tainted
With all your bullshit schemes

Say Perley, did I mention?
My guy’s ten years younger ‘n you
He can go all night, Canada’s red and white
Oorah Baby! Salutes her red, white and blue

Poor Perley, I heard ’bout your problem
Dead kinda bites, don’t it now
Better that than to keep on fakin’
With that nasty, old desperate cow

So just wanted you to know Ole Perley
I’m right as rain and happy too
So let’s call this for a Dear John letter
From happy me to shithead you

~ kei
16 June 2014