The Grass Cutter

Essay by Godfather777High School, 10th gradeA+, December 2005

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I was a trained gardener, I was a fake professional; I was a master of disaster at what I did, I was the best at cutting grass. I cut the grass as if there was no tomorrow, I cut it so fast it made people faint in shock when I finished. I don't really know why I was so good at cutting; I guess it was a natural gift god gave me, a very special talent. Every gardener in the country envied me. They all hated me, and wished they could be me, but that was fine because if I was in their position I would feel the same. But forget them, my story doesn't involve them my story is about me against this one person who hated me so much, that he swore my name, and wished me dead, he took hate to a new level.

This grudge all began two years ago, in the horrible, wonderful city of Mexico. I went there since I had a grass cutting tournament, and I was invited to compete, even though it was obvious if I went I was going to win, a lot of amateurs came to try and challenge me. I enter the stadium which grass was meant to be trimmed I walked with pride. That's where I met him he was pretty tall, and had a round face. His face was red, filled with veins, not just veins, they were many coloured black ones popped up all around his face. I laughed him since he looked like a scary clown, but since I am the unlucky person I am, he saw me and realized I was laughing at him.

That night the competition opening ritual was going to be at the grand Hilton hotel. As usual I...