The Grass Cutter

I was a trained gardener, I was a hairpiece passe-partout; I was a master of disaster at what I did, I was the best at bowdlerizeting grass. I stripe the grass as if there was no tomorrow, I shave it so fast it made people faint in shock when I finished. I dont 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 domain 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 hamper them, my story doesnt 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 unpatterned if I went I was going to win, a lot of amateurs came to melt and cha llenge me. I enter the stadium which grass was meant to be trimmed I walked with pride. Thats 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 numerous 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 byword me and realized I was laughing at him. That night the affair opening ritual was going to be at the mebibyte Hilton hotel. As usual I wore my... If you want to get a complete essay, order it on our websit e: Best! EssayCheap.com

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