Creative Writing and Colored Pencils

So in Creative Writing class we were put in groups and given colored pencils and paper. The first thing we had to do was picture a person who intrigued us. Then we had to DRAW their biggest fear. (And no, im not telling you what I drew). Then we had to think of that person's best friend. Then we had to pretend we had asked that best friend to pick one animal that reminded them of the person we picked. Then we drew the animal.
Next we had to draw one "prop" the person was never without. Lastly we had to draw the "craziest day of that persons life." I know, wierd right?
Best part: Then we had to switch drawings with someone and write a story based on their drawings. Aqui esta:


Caleb sat in front of the glass aquarium that had once been full of water and angel fish that had been interesting to watch swim back and forth. Their tails had made interesting shapes in the water. Now it held a gecko who sat on a plastic rock under a heating lamp all day and warmed himself.
Caleb tapped on the glass, trying to get the lizard to move, but his stepfathers pet just opened one eye and then closed it again. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, and even when they were open weren’t very interesting to look at, so Caleb sat back and watched the cartoons on TV instead. When he heard the boots stomp up the front steps and the key click the lock open he turned it off and looked at the gecko again, his eyes avoiding the hallway where he knew Ron would walk by.
Caleb didn’t like boots. He liked dress shoes. He wore them everyday, along with jeans and a striped shirt. The boots stomped up the steps, dragged through the hallway and then eventually thudded quietly as Ron sat in his recliner and turned the T.V. on to watch pro wrestling while he kicked off his shoes.
Caleb didn’t like Ron. He didn’t like the sound of his boots or the smell of his shaving cream or the way he brushed his hair. He hated the way he never burped at meals and his habit of eating two mints every day after dinner.
“How was school today Caleb?” Ron asked. Caleb shrugged, staring at the gecko. “Have you come up with a name for him yet?” Ron tried speaking again, “Remember you can name him anything you want.”
Caleb shook his head. “No” he said. He didn’t want to name the lizard.
That was all they spoke until Caleb’s mother and Ron’s wife got home from work. Her heels clicked on the linoleum of the hallway and the plastic shopping bags crinkled in her arms as she first went to set the bags down on the kitchen floor and then came in and bent down to kiss Caleb and then her husband.
Caleb liked his mother. He liked the way her hair was always pulled back away from her face with the gold barrette he had picked out for her, liked the way her skirts matched her shoes, liked the way her breath always smelled like apple cinnamon tea. He didn’t like the new perfume she wore, though. Ron had picked it out for her and it smelled like a flower.
She used to wear perfume on her wrists that was called “summer day.” Caleb didn’t think it smelled like summer, he didn’t think that summer had a smell at all, but he had liked it better than this new stuff.
His mother sat on the edge of the couch between him and Ron for a few minutes and then stood up and walked into the kitchen to make dinner.
“Want some help, dear?” Ron asked, and stood up from the recliner. He always asked this, and Caleb’s mother always said “No thanks, honey.” Ron then would move his shoes from the chair into the mudroom off the entrance and then sit go into the kitchen and pull the chair away from the table. It made a weird sliding noise against the linoleum as he sat down.
Caleb stayed in the living room and watched cartoons and the gecko. The lizard smelled like a turtle. Caleb didn’t like turtles.
For dinner Ron and Caleb’s mother had chicken parmesan with wheat spaghetti and red chardonnay wine. Caleb had white macaroni noodles with mozzarella cheese sauce, mashed cauliflower and milk. Ever since he turned seven he had refused to eat anything that wasn’t white. For awhile he wouldn’t even eat around foods that were other colors. The first time she had bought corn on the cob to make for herself for dinner Caleb had thrown it off her plate and across the room. Sometimes Caleb’s mother wished that he had picked some other color, because food could always be dyed. It was nearly impossible to get all white food, and bleaching stuff added way too many chemicals and took out way too many vitamins. At least Caleb wasn’t picky, so he would usually eat what she gave him as long as it didn’t have any color to it.
The only white thing that Caleb had ever outright refused were Ron’s mints, but Caleb’s mother figured that one can’t be too picky. You take what you can get.