House On Mango Street

House On Mango Street The House On Mango Street Formal Writing Assignment Dads Got His Wish I never had a choice. They decided it all for me and the next thing you know, we were moved. One night, I come home and my father gives me a big smile and says, were out of here. I give him a puzzled look, but after staring into his grinning face, I realize what he means. After thirty nine hard years, he has finally found the home he has always wanted.

Since my father was young, he had always dreamed of the house he would one day reside. He would say to his mother, my grandmother, when I get big, I will live in a house as big as New York. When my father began working, he started to save money in the bank, knowing one day it would be spent for his dream home. He would doodle out sketches of how he thought it would look. As he aged, his goal became more realistic.

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He had a higher paying job, and was able to move out on his own. Knowing he could not just leap into a palace at the ripe age of 19, my father settled down in a run-down apartment complex. He was placed in an old, one bedroom apartment. He would sleep at night, and listen to the other poor families complain and argue into the wee hours. After two years of this, he married my mother and they moved into their first house.

This is where I was born and raised. Everything in my life has come from this place. The house was a part of me, and I assumed it would always be there for me. But three days before my sixteenth birthday, everything changes. They have been searching for a new place for months, and my fathers current job gives them the option to look at pretty nice houses.

But they claim to have found the greatest bargain of all time. And without my input, they have picked this great house in the middle of nowhere, Wynantskill. So, my father tells me, get ready to say goodbye to your house, we can move to the new place in two weeks. And despite my wishes otherwise, this new place is going to become my home. And when I first see it, it is just as my father has described his house will one day be. He used to sit me down and tell me of the one day when we would move into this gigantic house.

He described it as a combination of the White House, a submarine, and a New York City skyscraper. Never worried about how much it would cost, just knowing that one day he would be able to own this residence was all he needed. Itll make this house you live in now look like a poor mans shack, he would say. Everyone will have their own room, with plenty of space to put anything you wanted anywhere you wanted it to go. I never believed him.

I would play it off as my fathers wishful thinking. More rambling that he so often did. I figured I had as good a chance to see Elvis Presley as I did to live in this grand place. But lo and behold, the day has come when I come face to face with my fathers dream. I walk inside, see my bedroom, and realize that my father has not gone back on his word.

His dream has come true, and we live exactly where he said we would. But Theyre My Lines What are they thinking? They are wrong, I am right. All of them have ganged up against me, but I will hold firm in my belief this time. Terry, Mary, and Keith all think they are so good now, but when I star in the greatest movie ever, they will comprehend what a mistake they made. These so-called friends of mine cannot grasp the genius ideas that I have mentioned. It all starts innocently enough, Terry and I playing some basketball in my backyard.

Then, Keith and Mary come over, but Mary is too cool to play sports, so we have to do something different. Mary has this great idea that we should write and act in a play. Since no one else can think of anything better to do, we all decide that this idea isnt that bad. No, no, no. My idea is better, she says. Whatever I suggest, Mary seems to think of something that is better for the play. Terry and Keith do not have the guts to stand up to her, so it is basically me versus her.

It would make the plot more clear if we add two lines for my character right here, I say to her. Ooooh, I think it will be better if we just give those lines to my character, she says with attitude. I had let her have her way up until this point, but I know it would be better if I have these lines. So I tell her so: Mary, stop being so stupid. I thought of the lines, and I know that my character should say them, so SHUT UP! Before she can even react, both Terry and Keith start jawing their mouths.

Man, you just yelled at her. Dude, I thought her idea was better than yours, you shouldnt have blown up on her. You are an idiot, why dont you stop being such a jerk, and let Mary have some fun too. They both start attacking me, as if I was to blame for all of this. Mary is sitting back, smirking with satisfaction, knowing that I either had to give in and let her have the lines, or she would leave and take my two friends with her.

As soon as I see her with that sarcastic grin, I know what I have to do. So I say, guys, if you think shes right, just go with her and write the stupid play by yourselves. You obviously dont need me. Just because shes a girl, it does not mean she is always right. I thought of the idea, and it would work better if my character says them.

So you guys decide on whether or not we finish this play together. They all look at each other, and they get up and leave. No words are exchanged, just silence as they walk together. I stand there alone, watching them go. Nicky St …