Fall DWA Practice

Don’t ask me how, why, where or any other of the “5 W” questions on how this happened. Somehow everyone got it. It just started with me wanting a lollipop, because apparently they don’t make marshmallow flavored. I mean really, what sensible adult wouldn’t make a marshmallow lollipop? I don’t know a kid on this planet that doesn’t like to pull apart a soft, squishy, partly-melted marshmallow, and then just jam the whole thing into their mouth. And put it in a lollipop and... Sorry, I tend to get off topic like that. It might be because of all the marshmallows.

Anyways, I started to grab little doo-hickeys I don’t know the name of out of the garage on my dad’s tool bench and just jammed them into one piece, to make... (you know it’s coming) a marshmallow machine. As you would probably guess my dad wasn’t exactly “happy” about me using all of his Gorilla Glue for my little contraption. But he doesn’t know what my invention does...
And neither do I. But I’m guessing it’ll be something to do with marshmallows.


I used the spout I attached to pour in the marshmallows (used toilet paper roll) and somehow the jumbo marshmallows wouldn’t fit through the hole. I had to compromise. I took a blowtorch (also from my dad’s tool bench) and torched them! I laughed maniacally. For your safety: You should never trust me with fire.
Okay, I’ll admit it. The whole idea of using a tool to cook a marshmallow wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. I didn’t even get to start! My mom stopped me just before the flame reached the marshmallow.
“Use the microwave!” she yelled.
“Fine. I’ll go all the way inside to do it,” I told her, exaggerating the word “all”.
I got to the microwave and I microwaved the marshmallows (30 seconds on High, times may vary). Then, I got back in the garage and got back to work. I poured the melted marshmallows into the spout and backed up. I expected to see, you know, a lollipop, but I had to run into the house to get away from my monstrous creation.
A Marshmallow Marsh.

Sticky, gooey, marshy mess. That’s it. That’s how I describe it. People around town describe me the same, I believe. Yup, that’s right. It spread all over the city. But, it was kind of funny for the people that were on the bikes as it happened. They either fell over or got frozen in place because it was so sticky.
I scratched my head. Yeah,the fines for this are going to be more than that other time... I don’t want to talk about it.
I was just trying to picture how they were going to get rid of this mess. Maybe with a huge vacuum cleaner, or a huge sponge, or a huge- okay, I guess it has to be huge to clean up this huge mess. And it isn’t a small job, either.
Marshmallow Fluff was everywhere. Kids were overjoyed at this sight, unlike the adults. Police were wandering the streets, looking for clues on who put this gooey mess upon them.
I stepped outside of my little ranch house and stepped into the sticky mess. Of course, I brought a big spoon out, (or a ladle, whichever works for you), and scooped up the fluff.
“Oh my gosh!” I said aloud. “How would someone be upset about this being dumped all over the city? This is amazing!”
I think other people heard me, and didn’t realize that it was me that actually did it, and started to think about what I was saying. Actually, I did have a point. That happens very rarely with me. Everyone in my neighborhood stepped outside. They gasped at first (who wouldn’t) and then they all had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Children were diving into the gooeyness, and parents were happy, considering they each had a lifetime supply of marshmallows.
Soon enough, parents were coming to me with several 20 dollar bills in their hands, asking how much. I told them $80, even though it was worth a lot less. pretty soon, I had thousands of dollars IN CASH in my two sticky hands. And guess what? It all started with me wanting a lollipop. Who knew?