Moral Decision

John Doe
123 Green Ave,
Penticton, B.C.
V2A 3W1

February 10, 2011

John Smith
Mayor
City Hall 568 Main Street
Small Village, B.C.

Dear Mr. Smith:

I am surprised that you are asking me for advice, out of all the people in our village. But since you have, I will express my thoughts thoroughly. I think we should cover up this evidence, it is for the greater good. Families in our village rely on Gunter Grass to provide for them. Without him, many of these families will fall into poverty. He has donated large amounts of money to charities. I think we need to acknowledge that he is a model citizen, in the present. If he had meant any harm to our village, he would have done so earlier.

Of course victims of the concentration camp, of the entire holocaust will want him exposed. But you cannot judge Gunter Grass from his past. Everyone has made mistakes, just on different scales. He is obviously trying to make amends for his past deeds. No matter what a man's past may have been, his future is spotless. He treats many of our citizens very well. He has built a profitable factory, where many of our citizens work. They are well paid, and the working conditions are great.  

Also, he has three children, and many grandchildren. If we exposed Gunter Grass, his entire family would be judged, and that is unfair for them. It would be extremely embarrassing for all of them. We should also respect his deceased wife. He is 92 years old, it would be useless exposing him now. We should just let him live the rest of his life peacefully.

Sincerely,

Sumeet Tattla

Cliche's

George looked up from shoeing the horse to see the outline of Curley's wife in the doorway of the barn. They were alone. She leaned against the doorway, and bit her lip. "Hey there George." she whispered into the barn. George looked over at her. "I'm looking for Curly, have you seen him around here?"  She asked innocently.
                "Haven't seen that bugger." George replied shortly.
                "Whatcha' doing there?" She asked, staring straight at him. Her eyes pierced him like a thousand daggers.
                "Make like a tree and leave woman," George answered in a monotone voice. Curly's wife walked into the barn, and walked toward George. Butterflies were fluttering about in George's stomach.
                "All of you boys never want to talk to a beautiful woman like me," she said angrily. She sat down on the hay, and pouted.  "I guess boys will be boys," She started to fiddle around with the hay. George ignored her, and started walking towards the exit of the barn. "Awe George, where are you going?" whined Curly's wife.
                "For Pete's sake." Yelled George. He turned around and glared at Curly's wife.
                "I can see it in your eyes George, you want me," She started into George's eyes and winked. "All's fair in love and war." She spoke softly. George ignored her, and stood there. "What's wrong hun, cat got your tongue?" Curly's wife giggled.
                "You are beautiful, but I don't want nothing to do with you," George looked the other way as he spoke. "Beauty is only skin deep." He said quietly.
                "You can't judge someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes," Curly's wife responded.
                "You're crossing your limits."  George said with a straight face. "You'll be lucky if I don't tell Curly about this, now get back to your house."
                "I guess you're right, better safe than sorry." She walked past George and out of the barn. She blew a kiss towards George.
                "I'm damned if do, and damned if I don't." George mumbled to himself.

Grade 12

As I ran up the stairs, everything was a blur. The excessive smell of LG perfume still lingered in the air. I gagged in disgust. I picked up the speed, as if Satan himself was on my heels. Dodging, and weaving through the clusters of little boys and girls. They should move for me, I thought angrily; shaking my head. I got to my locker and did a quick 360 degree check, and twisted my lock to the right combination. I sighed in relief as I got it on the first time. My binders, barely able to keep shut due to the massive amount of homework sheets, were the only things visible. I stood there glaring at the fiendish binders. Quickly, I grabbed them, shut my locker, and sped to the nearest blue recycling bin. As I unzipped my binders , papers were already flooding out. The rings were forced open, and a storm of papers rained down into the bin. I laughed maniacally, and ravaged the other binders. Relief filled me, replacing stress and tensions, I fell to my knees. Biology 12, Chemistry 12, Law 12, and History 12. All finished. The alarm on my watch went off, telling me that I had to get to my first class. The second semester had started, and I knew that I had English Literature 12 first. Just another boring English class I assumed. From what I heard, this was going to be like a jungle full of monkeys. I headed toward the classroom, when I got into the classroom, Mrs. Searcy greeted with me with a warm smile. An unsure smile escaped my face. I put my backpack and binders on the desk, and sat down, still wondering if I should drop this class. As my friends starting filling up the room, one by one, I knew that this class would be great. Epic sword battles, medieval banquets, and just goofing off. I wondered, what else could a grad ask for as his last class? Last, but not least, grad pranks. English Literature 12, truly is the savior.