The laundry buzzer was going off and I quickly announced this fact to my mom. She usually needs lots of help on Saturdays. She can never seem to hear that buzzer, no matter how close she is to the machine. I was working on my masterpiece and couldn’t be distracted by the annoying buzz of the dryer, so an even louder yell came next.
My masterpiece was a snake that I was making from the play-doh my dad gave me for my birthday last week. My dad brought it home from his trip to Guatemala, so it was extra cool. It even had a sugary smell to it instead of that salty stuff. It was softer than American play-doh too, almost like real clay. The strangest part was the label: Beware of your creations. What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not like its real. Even though, that would be pretty cool.
I finished flattening out the head on the rolled up snake body. There were two slits for eyes and I had awesome sculpted fangs—they almost looked real! I was beginning to work on the rattler lines when my mom told me to put my clothes away.
“Distractions, distractions! How can an artiste work in a place like this?” I ask myself as I head down to the laundry room.
As I was walking back up the stairs, I looked over to the kitchen table. My snake wasn’t there! Where could it have gone? It had been right there.
Then I saw it. Not in the clay-like, coiled position I had left it in, but it was staring me directly in the face, its pointed tongue flickering at me. It started to slither toward me. I turned and ran thinking to myself, “So that’s what the label meant—I guess having my masterpiece come to life isn’t as cool as I thought. I shouldn’t have made those fangs so life-like. Maybe next time I’ll listen to the label.”
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