Sunday, August 18, 2019
The Cabin/ unreliable narrator :: essays research papers
The Cabin                                        Kevin Jones Unreliable narrator                                    2nd per Do I know where the bathroom is? What do you mean, do I know where the bathroom is? I’ve been in the Delta View Mental Institute for five years now and you are still asking me if I know where the bathroom is. I know this place like the back of my hand. I’m not crazy, how many times do I have to tell you people? These other people in here, those are the crazy whacks. The only reason they put me in here is because they didn’t know what else to do with me. What’s that? You want to hear my story? Well that’s just too bad, you already think I’m crazy. Well ok since you asked nicely. It was October 16, 1993, my senior year at Lemoore High. I had three really good friends Ginger Tubs, Mike Bellowing, and Mary Johnson. We were always getting into trouble together. My family owned this cabin up in the mountains and we decided to go up and spend the weekend there. We were so anxious to get up there that we ditched school on Friday and drove up that morning. We arrived in Pine Flat Village at noon and I realized that I had forgot my key so we just broke into the cabin through the window; the lock was rusted and broke easily. Once inside we unpacked all of our things and started a fire in the fireplace. Ginger started complaining that the living room was getting too smoky. Ginger is constantly complaining. She is the type of person who wants everything to be perfect, sometimes you just want to grab her by the throat and squeeze until her lips turn blue and the color flees from her face. I told Ginger to go to the other room and lie down, I didn’t know that the pilot had gone out and the house was filling with gas, honest. The rest of us decided to go for a ride and check out the scenic views of the mountains. We were about two miles from the cabin when we heard the deafening explosion. Mary, Mike, and I all turned around and saw the thick black smoke swelling from the clearing where the cabin was. I slammed my foot onto the accelerator and zoomed back to what used to be the cabin, now it was a black shack ablaze with a deep crimson inferno. The Cabin/ unreliable narrator :: essays research papers The Cabin                                        Kevin Jones Unreliable narrator                                    2nd per Do I know where the bathroom is? What do you mean, do I know where the bathroom is? I’ve been in the Delta View Mental Institute for five years now and you are still asking me if I know where the bathroom is. I know this place like the back of my hand. I’m not crazy, how many times do I have to tell you people? These other people in here, those are the crazy whacks. The only reason they put me in here is because they didn’t know what else to do with me. What’s that? You want to hear my story? Well that’s just too bad, you already think I’m crazy. Well ok since you asked nicely. It was October 16, 1993, my senior year at Lemoore High. I had three really good friends Ginger Tubs, Mike Bellowing, and Mary Johnson. We were always getting into trouble together. My family owned this cabin up in the mountains and we decided to go up and spend the weekend there. We were so anxious to get up there that we ditched school on Friday and drove up that morning. We arrived in Pine Flat Village at noon and I realized that I had forgot my key so we just broke into the cabin through the window; the lock was rusted and broke easily. Once inside we unpacked all of our things and started a fire in the fireplace. Ginger started complaining that the living room was getting too smoky. Ginger is constantly complaining. She is the type of person who wants everything to be perfect, sometimes you just want to grab her by the throat and squeeze until her lips turn blue and the color flees from her face. I told Ginger to go to the other room and lie down, I didn’t know that the pilot had gone out and the house was filling with gas, honest. The rest of us decided to go for a ride and check out the scenic views of the mountains. We were about two miles from the cabin when we heard the deafening explosion. Mary, Mike, and I all turned around and saw the thick black smoke swelling from the clearing where the cabin was. I slammed my foot onto the accelerator and zoomed back to what used to be the cabin, now it was a black shack ablaze with a deep crimson inferno.
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