THE CENOTE

I am now going to a cenote, or underground river. The trip over is long, but luxurious on my gold-encrusted llama. I need water, so I drink from my platinum cantine. The cenote is approching; I get ready to jump in, but a hoboe is guarding it. I recognize the hoboe and his face drops. I throw a giant wad of cash at him and he falls backwards into the cenote. He misses and hits land. I see a little blood but there are signs of life. He moans and swims away. "What do you have against me." He responds with three gunshots that miss me and some indistinct drunken fury. He's long gone by now. I decide to jump in. As I fall, I realize that it looks like crystal, shimmers like diamond, and sounds like the static of a T.V. It seems familiar, comforting. I splash, ignorant of pain.

I think that this is a fun thing to do every Wednesday and helps us learn while using our creativity.

My name is Maria Reicher. I have search for many years. I believe I find answer to the riddle of the Nazca. The riddle is solved when you look at the lines and you know that they were eating the cactus. I think that they made small lines because they were beautiful. They made larger ones to talk to the gods.

SuperMegaMachuPicchu

I am now going to MACHU PICCHU. But it's a four day hike, and I forgot my wallet containing 110 trillion dollars cash on the bus. I jump on the train leading up to Machu Picchu, and it almost kills me. I hear a loud snap but it is just a hobo breaking a stick over my head. I cry out and he tries to push me off but I smack him with a solid gold keychain. He passes out and I throw him out of the train onto a discarded sofa. Within minutes, the train starts moving and in just an hour, I reach Machu Piccu and see its size.

mysuperblogofmine I

I am super rich now and I can go anywhere in Latin America. Now I will plan to go to eastern Brazil. Now I am in Rio de Janeiro, the city is beautiful and urban. A statue of Jesus is watching over us all, embracing the city. I see a large body of water, the foaming, roaring ocean swallowing up the coastline. A man selling clay statues will not leave me alone. I buy one, a fisherman. Something about it reminds me of my hunger and I walk into a small store. I decide to go into a churascaria. It's a lively place, and their is an unusual kind of coaster. One side is green, the other is red. A young man with a slightly wrinkled face and an odd off-white shirt that reflects seemingly all of the light from the room that for some reason makes me alert. He started cutting lean meat off of what looks like a ham, only in a deeper colour. I realise that it is a wonderful cut of beef, tenderloin, perhaps, but I am too late. Before I know it, my plate is half full.