Graisins

New standard: 11.R.2.2 Students can read fluently to comprehend grade-level text.

I recently got inspired by an online site entitled Hyperbole and a Half. It's a cross between a blog and an online comic strip. The author of Hyperbole and a Half, Allie Brosh, chooses a topic to "rant" over, through a humorous story.

I decided that I would try to do my own version of a similar type of story along with my own illustrations, so here's a sample.

Graisins

There’s something about raisins that just make me feel sick. Maybe it’s the texture, maybe the color, maybe their appearance…

But whenever I’m forced to shove those small spawns of Satan down my throat, I get the strange feeling that I’m eating old people. Old people…like my grandma. How can I eat dried fruit that resembles my grandmother? Graisins, that’s what they are, grandma raisins—graisins.




I wonder sometimes if others feel the same way about raisins (possibly my grandma?).

It’s like a phobia, haunting me. They’re everywhere around me, it seems! In my dad’s cereal, in my grandma’s (bless her soul) cookies, and at school…always.

In elementary, they handed those bad boys out like candy on Halloween. “Nature’s candy?” Please…more like my grandma’s skin!

I don’t think it’s just me that feels this way about graisins, and if it is just me, what’s wrong with me. For some reason, graisins sound semi-satanic…

And quite frankly, I don’t understand how juicy, succulent grapes can turn into such a foul “snack.”

I feel bad for my dad, because when he buys trail mix, I feast on the nuts and M&M’s, but never dare to touch the graisins.

So there ends up being an over-graisin-populated bag of trail mix in the cupboard that nobody wants to touch. Even my dad doesn’t eat straight up graisins.

It seems as if my graisiphobia has taken control of my soul. More like a corner of my body designated to graisin-hating.

Thanks for reading! Also here's the link to to Allie's Hyperbole and a Half blog page. http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/