Narrative Essay: Rough Draft
“Class dismissed,” yells the teacher from the front of the classroom. The students all
shuffle out of the room. One kid glances at me and asks his friend, “You think the teacher would
notice if I took the arms off of the Mr. Potato Head?” The two boys laugh as they exit and it is
silent again. This is my fifth day sitting on a hard, wooden shelf. I was plucked from a toy store
and brought to this lonely room where every day at three o’clock in the afternoon all the people
leave and I wait in the dark until they return the next morning.
Night approaches quickly and I can hear the soft melody of crickets. My eyes grow
heavy and I breathe in the familiar smell of erasers and musty paper. Just as I feel myself drift
into sleep, I hear a low pounding and my eyes flash open.
“Party, party, party!” A chorus of tiny voices is shouting. Are there other toys in this
room? I stretch my around body trying to glance around the classroom for where the noise has
come from. Suddenly I see bright lights and can hear another faint voice exclaiming, “Turn it up
DJ!” There are toys here and they are having a party!
A realization smacks me in the face. I’m high above the ground on the shelf with no way
to get down and join the celebration. I grab my glasses from my “under regions” and put them
on for a closer look. Gulp. My shelf is like a steep cliff of a mountain and I’m just a round
potato with short arms and feet. With knocking knees and a pounding heart, I slowly climb
down the side of the shelf onto the next level. Glancing down it doesn’t seem as tall anymore.
In a couple minutes I am on the ground. “You’re a stud,” I say out loud.
My little legs waddle quickly over to the party and I’m out of breath by the time I arrive.
Okay, now is the time to make some good impressions. I gather all my courage a strike up a
conversation with a nice-looking teddy bear I’ve just heard referred to as Miss Fuzzy.
“Hey darling, there’s a new spud in town!”
“There’s a new dud where?” replied Miss Fuzzy, looking awfully confused.
I tried again. “Uh, I mean… what do you call a thin potato?”
“I don’t know, what?”
“A chip!” I yell enthusiastically. However, I only get blank stares.
Word Count: 434
Length Requirements: 500-700 words