Wake up George

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It was early on that dreaded Monday morning, the one where the English GCSE essay was meant to be in. I had spent till eleven ‘O’ clock the following evening doing it but I had finished and was ready to hand in this morning which was a new thing for me, meeting deadlines. I slumped over on my right shoulder dragged my feet out from underneath the covers and put them on the floor whilst I hauled my body upright. I stood up sharply and then had to sit down again because of the head rush.

I eventually staggered into the bathroom, and turned the shower on and got in. I had breakfast which had the usual vivid morning conversation which consists of my dad asking “what are you doing today at school son,” to which I reply “stuff” because I cannot bear thinking or even uttering the words of double maths physics, which were my first lessons. I then slowly meandered my way down the Garden path towards the garage where I got out my bike; which, by the way is the biggest pile of rubbish in the whole of the northern hemisphere.

It has cello tape holding the handle bars on, it has only one gear and only the front brake works meaning that if you go down a hill and you have to brake suddenly you will go flying, and I mean flying, over the handle bars. It was a pleasant morning for a bike ride as it was not to hot or to cold but the sun was shining on a beautiful, crisp, spring-morning. I was slowly pedalling down out of my road when I happened to glance at myat my watch and realized that I was late for the deadline.

I had five minutes to get my essay in on time otherwise it would not get marked and I knew that usually it would take at least ten minutes from here to school. I knew I couldn’t let all that hard work go to waste last night it wasn’t like me to work hard but when I did it wasn’t for nothing. I tightened my bag straps and started pedalling as hard as I could. I felt it burning in my thighs and the tears running down my cheeks as my eyes squinted as the wind rushed past my face. Out of the blue a stretched Limo pulled out from one of the side roads I broke but skidded and hit the Limo with a resounding crash.

I got up quickly from the pavement and rushed over to my bike and picked it up. It was ruined the front wheel had been bent inwards. There was no way I could ride this to school now and I had four minutes to get there on foot so I could get that paper in on time which was not going to happen. All hope was lost I knew it was bad luck for me to work hard at something. All of a sudden the driver of the Limo rushed over and checked his Limo, which didn’t have so much as a scratch on it and then hurriedly walked over to me to check if I was alright.

I was, apart from a couple of grazes on my elbows and a dead leg. I apologised profusely and explained to him that I was on my way to school to hand in an essay for my GCSE and I was late. He seemed really sympathetic and said “wait there one second while I have a word with my boss. ” He walked over to the back window of his Limo and knocked on the glass the widow slowly came down and I saw a man look out. I didn’t recognize him at first but then it clicked the man in the back of the Limo was not only the greatest film director ever Steven Spielberg.

He looked at me then looked back at his chauffer and smiled. The chauffer looked at me and made a hand gesture at me to get in the back of the Limo. He opened the door for me, I felt like I was royalty. I got in and Steven introduced himself and then said to me “don’t worry about the bike I will get you a new one a lot better than that piece of junk. ” We both looked at each other and laughed. “My driver will also get you to your school in time to hand your essay in as well,” he said with a hint of boldness in his voice.

“How,” I exclaimed, “we only have two minutes. “Don’t you worry my driver is very experienced and knows this place like the back of his hand,” he alleged. I knew this place also and I didn’t think we had a hope in hell but at that moment I would have given anything a go. Suddenly the Limo jerked forwards with a massive wheel spin as the driver span the Limo around the corner and raced it through morning rush hour traffic. It was like in one of the movie he had directed we were weaving in and out the traffic dodging cars here and there it was incredible. The driver raced up through the school gates and into the car park.

I unlocked the door and bolted out of it whilst say a swift goodbye and thank you. I darted up the steps and in through the main door. I sprinted down the corridor and burst through the door and into class. I was just in time to hand it in. I reached into my pocket and my heart sank straight into my stomach with the sharp intake of breath. It wasn’t there. I frantically searched for it in my other pockets but it wasn’t to be found. I had been through all that and now I had lost it, typical. As the teacher came around the class collecting everyone else’s my hands became moist with a cold clammy sweat as I began preparing my excuse.

She looked at me and smiled smugly as she always did when I forgot to do homework because it meant that she could put me into a detention. I smiled back annoyed that I had let her have the satisfaction of putting me into yet another detention. I began to explain how I woke up late and had to hurry to school otherwise I would not have got here in time to hand my essay in but then in the hurry crashed my bike into the side of Steven Spielberg’s Limo who then gave me a lift to school and we sped around corners skidding to avoid cars and I only just made it but in the hurry must have left my essay in the Limo.

She looked at me then laughed out loud. “You would have had a better chance saying that aliens abducted you and their funny alien dog ate your homework than your excuse” she exclaimed in gaps between her laughter. “No Miss you must believe me it’s true I swear” I pleaded with her. I was fighting a losing battle; there was no way in a million years that she would ever believe me. Just then there was an abrupt knock on the door. The teacher sub-consciously shouted “come in. ”

The door opened swiftly and in stepped Steven Spielberg. I believe that this belongs to one of your pupils he left it in my car” he said with a modest sense of self importance. If I could have taken a picture of my teachers jaw drop it was priceless. I walked up with a great sensation of pride and satisfaction as I smiled at my teacher and collected it from his hand. “Thank you I said with the biggest smile across my face. With that he winked at me and walked out. The whole class was silent and every pair of eyes stared at me. I chuckled to my self and smugly said, “told you so. “

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