It was a warm day, so that'd been fine with Cheryl, as she know what it was like to be her age. She on the other hand was just wearing a loose purple...tee shirt and some comfortable jean shorts. She admitted to herself that she still looked good for just hitting forty, but figured the boy's complaints were mostly for her attractive daughter."You're sweet," she smiled at Mike, and then turned to the boxes. "Well, I guess I better start repacking everything." Do…" Mike started, but stopped to. Maybe you could write one about a spiders-r-us wizard who changes roaches into ladybugs. just a suggestion for you and your friends.also i wish to point out i notice you own the bookelements of style by strunk and white.i suggest you read the book more carefullyas your own prose is in dire need of improving.i like your poems though.if you wonder why a cockroach can write and speakenglish, much less criticize literature, let me pointout i am a reincarnated short story writer. reincarnation. He said he was really hoping you would be his mentor.”“Well, son, it’s something we do in our family. When a father has a son, they spend a lot of time together, and the father teaches the son about our ways. About sex and pleasure, and taking care of each other. Eventually, though, the son has learned enough. In our clan, a son spends five years with his father. After that, though, he goes to another, older member of the family for another five years. There, he learns all kinds of new things.. Gradually the plate took on the look of a ship's tomato-ey sauced foc'sl, its ropes coiled neatly in readiness for use.Gregg shook his head; uncertain as to whether or not this meant that the spaghetti was good to eat and equally unsure if it meant that the effects of the spliff had not, in fact, quite worn off yet. His attempt to push the thoughts of the obsessively neat pasta from his mind were interrupted by a curious sensation from his feet.He looked down. His shoelaces were unravelling.