My+best+Work

=Awesome Best Stuff=

My favorite part about this is the cans. media type="file" key="13 - Yellow Submarine.mp3" width="240" height="20" media type="file" key="blackbird_beatles.mp3" width="240" height="20" media type="file" key="Don't_Worry_Be_Happy.mp3" width="240" height="20" media type="file" key="freebird.mp3" width="240" height="20" media type="file" key="letitbe.mp3" width="240" height="20" I'm sorry T[|he Longest Time] and F[|ireflies] weren't attached. Those highlighted words are the links to the music videos. Pe1 Sean Pe ELA Mrs. Indemaio 26 May 2010 Common Folk

Me name is Dick Eaton. I used to have an ol’ hat, till some cowboy shot it. I told him I was my only hat. Then they gave me the best hat in town. It was all awesome. Then I met a guy named Sammy Spring, and he said he was a fiddler and a dirt farmer. I thought I heard some hits he made. I also met a shoemaker named John Healey. He kept complaining about how his company started using machines that the company couldn’t pay for. Instead, they got the employees to buy the machines, or else they would be fired. Those days weren’t bad at all. The three of us couldn’t afford homes for each one of us, so we all decided to share a home together. One day, Sam ran into a house holding about one hundred papers. So I asked what he was holding. He said, “This stuff? It’s called shares. It’s part of a company. Best of all, they pay something called dividends to everybody.” “What the heck? I don’t understand a word that you said.” So he went over it again, this time slower. That’s how we all jumped in this stock market business. Apparently we had a buddy who was a financial advisor. He said to pull out of the stock market. So we did, even though we didn’t see why we should. Good thing, the crash happened the day after. The bankers tried to reinvest, and it was back up. John was tempted to snatch some shares before Tuesday. On Tuesday, the official crash slammed the market. We were out of hope, till some guy told us to go to Texas as farmers. We made some money, till that d*** dust bowl came. One day, we met a good friend we made over our stay. He said that his family left. I said, “Why?” “Cause dust hit us. By the time I went outside, all our crops were dead. My family grabbed a flyer giving out jobs. They took it, and they left. Now I’ve got to hide in my own house. The bankers kicked my family out.” “Same here. They’re gonna kick us out soon enough.” “Well, the dust hits frequently.” “I’ve gotta go now. I’ve got some meeting with those d*** bankers.”

Sam, John, and I had to get out pronto. Before we left, Sam and I had a conversation on what to do. “We should start a band. You could sing, John could play the guitar, and I could play the fiddle.” “Nah. We should join one of them WPA camps.” “Yeah, good idea!!! We should be their band.” “Actually, come to think of it, we //should// be a band for the WPA camp.” With that, the band was founded. We called ourselves, “Common Folks”. Finally, the bankers told us to leave our house. We said that if they wanted us out, we would need a truck to pack our belongings. So they gave us the truck. We packed up and left our home. Some friends decided to come with us to the WPA camp in California. Thousands took the road. We took on hard ships on the road. Tom died, Mike died, and Malcolm died too. Such a shame, fine young men they were. When we arrived at the camp, we took the wrong turn. We ended up in one of those camps run by rich land owners and the police. They paid low wages and wouldn’t let anybody leave. We finally managed to play our way out. I don’t sing badly, after all.

Pe2 Finally! The WPA camp. When I came in to sign in, they said that they have no concerts. “What! That’s the only reason we came here.” “Slow down sonny, you came in here to sign in and live here. Instead of concerts, we have dances every Saturday. You could be the live band. Now //that// would make the dances even more fun.” “Thank you. How much will we get?” “Let’s say, a dollar. How about that?” “Better then going back to that hell of a camp that paid two and a half cents. All right, I’ll take it.” The days after that were like heaven. Pretty women, good payments, and dances? It never, ever gets better than that. We stayed for a while. Even stayed long enough to get a hundred dollars each. $500 total. Another two of our friends joined our band. We waited till we got $1000. Then, we hit the big stage. We went to dance marathons, and got five dollars per performance. We managed to stick together ‘till Korea, and from there, we split up and the Common Folks were no more.

The End

Sean Pe

I think that the Red Pony was a strong story. But the Jar of Dreams was more of a strong and amazing story. The Jar of Dreams is just amazing.

=My Spanish video. Click [|here] .=

=  =