四六级考试网

Our mother’s at a meetingfor some big, important deal,and couldn’t be at home tonightto cook the evening meal.She left some short directions for my sister just to follow.Instead my sister cooked up thingsimpossible to swallow.Like Brussels sprouts in vinegarand jellybeans in mustard,an onion-pickle puddingand a lemon-radish custard.She burned a stick of butter’til the house was filled with smoke,then fried a pound of pepperwith a half an artichoke.She put a whole bananain the blender with a steak,then mixed it up with tunafishand baked it in a cake.She stirred some chocolate ice creamwith garbanzo beans and bacon.A single bite was all it tookto leave me feeling shaken.We should have ordered pizzabut we didn’t know, alas,my sister is the only kidwho flunked her cooking class.

Fruitcake.Candied yams.Mincemeat.Roasted hams.Eggnog.Turkey legs.Aspic.Deviled eggs.Gravy.Dinner rolls.Take some.Pass the bowls.Jell-o.Christmas punch.Cookies.Munch, munch, munch.Stuffing.Gingerbread.Whoops, I’moverfed!Aftersuch a load,feel likeI’ll explode.Guess I’mgonna die,so pleasepass the pie.

I heard that they’ve got Einstein’s brainjust sitting in a jar.I don’t know where they keep it,but I hope it isn’t far.I need to go and borrow itto help me with this test.I’ve answered twenty questionsbut on every one I guessed.If someone asks you where I’ve gone,then kindly please explainI’ll be right back; I’ve just gone outto look for Einstein’s brain.

I’m “Easily Distracted Bart.”I never finish what I start.Today I . . .

I was sitting by my windowas I always do each morningwhen a strange thing started happeningwithout the slightest warning.It began by raining buckets,several dustpans and a broom,and a box of sponges landednear the window with a boom.Several mops appeared from nowhereAnd with playfulness and skillThey paraded in formationand they danced upon the sill.Then a dozen cans of cleanserand a hundred bars of soap,spun in circles ’round my bedroomlike a spiral gyroscope.They did pirouettes and pivots.They performed a song-and-dance.Then they finished with a combinationwiggle, waltz and prance.Then they just as quickly vanished,turning cartwheels ‘cross the floor,they went bounding out the windowand they tumbled out the door.I have no idea what happened,so I guess I’ll just assumethis is someone’s way of telling methat I should clean my room.

Peter passed a note today.He gave the note to Anna.She opened it and read it,then she passed it on to Hannah.The note made Hannah giggleso she handed it to Cody,who read it with a smile beforehe slid the note to Brody.Then Brody read the contentsand he gave it to Luann,who opened it and chuckledand directed it to Dan.He read it with a snicker,then he tossed the note to Jonwho couldn’t help but chortleas he passed it on to Sean.The teacher heard us laughingand she saw what Sean was holding.She walked across the roomand took the note he was unfolding.We thought we’d get in trouble,but she gave it back to Seanand smiled because it read,”The teacher’s awesome. Pass it on.”

I’m Frank, the frog collector,and I’m happy to reportmy collection’s nearly finished;I have frogs of every sort.I record them in my journalso that every single frogis accounted for completelywith an entry in my log.I have hundreds, maybe thousandsof amphibians at home.I have frogs of quilted fabric.I have frogs of gleaming chrome.I have frogs of painted porcelain,and frogs of brass and tin.I have frogs you open upto find another frog within.There are small magnetic tree frogsclinging gently to the fridgeand Louisiana bullfrogson a plastic bayou bridge.I have frogs on ancient bicycleswith shiny silver bells.I have frogs proposing marriageto their froggy mademoiselles.You’ll see frogs ascending ladders.You’ll see frogs descending stairs,yes, and frogs reclining dreamilyin comfy leather chairs.I have frogs with pink umbrellas.I have frogs engrossed in books.Even frogs that dangle fishing polesin nonexistant brooks.My abode is filled with frogsfrom top to bottom, front to back.There are frogs in every corner,every crevice, every crack.There is only one that’s missing;just one blank space in my log.So I’m begging, mom and dad,can I please have a REAL frog?

My sister’s name is “Seven”and my brother’s name is “Eight.”My parents gave them freaky namesI’m sure they thought were great.They could have named him “Michael”and they could have named her “Sue.”Instead they both decided thatno normal names would do.My brother could be “Brandon.”Maybe “Benjamin” or “Bill.”They could have named him “William”and then simply called him “Will.”My sister could be “Sarah.”Maybe “Kimberly” or “Kelsey.”They could have named her “Caroline”or “Katherine” or “Chelsea.”My brother could be “Steven”or they could have named him “Todd.”But instead, his name is evenand my sister’s name is odd.

I’m a wizard, I’m a warlock,I’m a wonder of the age.I’m a sorcerer, magician,prestidigitator, mage.I can change into a chicken,or perhaps a purple pig.I can wave my wand and, presto,I’m a waffle with a wig.With the power in my pinkyI can burst like a balloonor transform into a tigerwith the head of a baboon.If I wiggle on my earlobeor I knock upon my kneeI become a dancing doughnutor a turtle in a tree.Just a simple incantationand I deftly disappear,which I never should have donebecause I’ve been this way all year.And despite my mighty magicI’m impossible to see,for I never learned the spells I needto turn back into me.