This Week on Versus: Sons Vs. Dads

The sons try to defeat dads,

because they think they are bads.

They also just don’t like them,

they think they are like phlem.

The fathers really don’t like this,

because some can no longer piss.

The dads could be a little jealous,

for this reason no one can tell us.

The fathers like there power,

so they don’t have to cower.

They like to be strong,

Cause it may not be long,

Before the youngin will defeat.

The son cannot be beat.

The son will sometimes win,

even though they are kin.

This reoccurring theme,

is a well thought up scheme.

To help us understand,

The fight for the land.



Andrew's Awsome Archetypes

My wise old man would be my godfather Mike.  He is a very intelligent man with white hair and beard.  He gives me very useful advice.  He tells me about machines, survival, and wars.  My earth mother would be my aunt Cathy.  I don’t know what it is but she is just such a nice lady all the time.  I have a brother so I kind of have that relationship.  We always argue but help each other with things as well.  We give each other ideas and our thoughts.  My anti-hero is anyone I am competing against whether it be something small or big.  The father figure would be my dad.  He is a very helpful person who looks after me and guides me throughout my life.  The tricksters would be my friends.  They are always playing tricks on me.  The fatal man or woman would have to be cops.  They can get annoying. Always pulling me over and making false accusations. They also do not let me argue back without getting in trouble.  These are all the archetypes that I have in my life.   

The Black Cat

Their once was this boy named Sammy.  He lived on the outskirts of town, and had no friends.  He did not go to school and was not home schooled.  He lived in an old rickety house with a tree and a creek outside.  All he ever had was his black cat.  People would often tell him “that cat will come to haunt you."  Every night he would go down to the creek and lay by the creek under the old skeleton of a tree.  One night he walked down to the creek with his cat crossing trail with him.  He flopped down on the sand.  The smooth sand particles pressing against his back. The moon was not to be found as he looked up through the creepy old tree.  The tree started to creek as the cold wind hissed through the grass like a snake.  Then out of nowhere everything seemed to stop.  No wind, no crickets, no noise except for a quickening heartbeat.  Then breaking the silence with one shrilling yowl his cat was dead.  Blood poured out of the tree from where the cat was killed.  A low voice came from above him in the tree.  "This cat will no longer haunt you."