Locker

I frowned as I smelt that ferocious stench. While upon looking it smacked my nose, again. That nose burning odor was like dog poop at the sewer. Thud! Smack! Bang! It plopped to my feet, so I plugged my nose and held my breath. With my index finger and my thumb, I slowly scraped it off my toes, just to see a sock! That mind-blowing horid smleling beast! I unplugged my nose and let out a great sigh. Pulling it up to my face, I examined the sock, just what I thought! A gray and green, moldy and damp, two-month old gym sock. Johnny was opening me up. He tickled my tummy and grabbed something from inside of me; books. As he grabbed them, it forced me to drop that skunk of a sock. He punched my stomach. I sat there in pain and i cried with my neighbors. Why does this happen? Every hour we are beaten and torn, with no respect. We were given stickers and labels to be on our stomachs, backs, and sides. But I guess that's what happens when you're a locker.