And So Here We Are: A Look into the Beginnings of my Literary Excellence

My mom came into my room before and said, “I have to show you something.”  It sounded serious, too, because she also said, “You can look at it, but I want it back.”

She then handed me a literary masterpiece and left me alone to peruse it for a few minutes while she went to the bathroom.

Entitled: The Inside Story Of: My Kitten by: Lindsay Lewandowski (apparently I was quite the fan of colons back in the day)

This is a story that I wrote probably circa 1998, because that is the year that we got said kitten.  I was 7 years old, and this is how the story unfolds.

Side note: Clicking on the pictures will make them larger so you can see the full detailed artistic skill that I had achieved at such a young age.  You're welcome.

My kitten is frisky, but he was really frisky when he had claws.  He climbed up the screens!

The speech bubble on the side says “Get down!” in case you can’t read it clearly.  (Also, if you look closely you can see my dramatically painted glittery nails.  I'm fancy, huh?)

We named him after Kobe Bryant the basketball player.  Kobe Bryant Lewandowski.

This all happened before the Kobe Bryant scandal happened, I can assure you.

Our kitten eats alot of friskies!!

I clearly had not yet grasped the concept of correct grammar, nor had I yet read this post from Hyperbole and a Half.  I am also not sure why the picture is so small and yet I had so much room to draw.  Artistic license, most likely.

Just like our cat, Kobe when he’s tired just plops down where he is.

I also seem to have yet to grasp the concept of correct sentence structure.  Luckily I can assure you that I have grown up to be a writing tutor at my college that I currently attend.  So everything has fallen into place.

And again, still not sure why the picture only takes up approximately 1/4 of the page.

Sometimes he jumps on the tables.

This is still true, 14 years later.

He also likes to lay on the warm clothes from the dryer.

Still also true.  And has also rubbed off on me as well.

Kobe loves to play with his food.

Again with these tiny drawings.  I’m assuming the vast blank area of white page is just something left up for interpretation.  Or perhaps I knew this was just the first draft of the book, and so later on in life I would have to go back and add more to the pages to complete it.  I’m going to go with that.  Because who WOULDN’T want to publish this book?  It’s pure gold!

He curls up when he sleeps.

Still true.

He likes to play with his rats.

See, this is where the book starts to concern me.  My cat does not play with rats.  If anything, he plays with mice.  FAKE mice, I’d like to add.  If at some point he had played with rats, I’d like to think I would have been aware of it.  Maybe he really did play with rats and thus I have blocked out the traumatizing memory.  I certainly hope I just had momentarily forgotten the word mice in my 7-year old brain.

Well that’s the end of my Story!! ----->

Glad that randomly got HUGE OUT OF NOWHERE.

The End!!

Two conclusive pages are most definitely necessary in literature so profound as this.

Here is a picture of Kobe circa 2010, laying in a basket.

Here is also a picture of him circa 2008, laying on a bunch of towels.

As you can see, my drawings were extremely accurate in their interpretation of what he looks like.

Now I have to go return this book to my mom for safekeeping.  Because goodness knows this might be worth something someday.


UPDATE: As I finished posting this, my brother brought Kobe into my room.  He is now sleeping much too adorably on Paul McCartney at the end of my bed for me not to take a picture.

(the blanket is an Abbey Road blanket that he likes to lay on.  He's not ACTUALLY laying on Paul McCartney.  Geez, who do you think I am?  A Paul McCartney-enslaving MONSTER???)