... This is the most tragic story ever written; throughout history, those who have heard this sad and fateful tale were reduced to pathetic wraiths of sorrow.

... This is the story of lost hope and endless terror; the story of deep betrayal and lustful vengeance.

... This is the story of the little boy who lost his cookie and never saw it again.

The Chocolate Chip

... When I was about to be born, I was supposedly going to be called Sean,

but fortunately, I wasn't tainted for life with that blunt name and was

blessed with the fairly decent name of Alfred Chen instead. But I just had to

be born in the small, crowded, stinking, and massively polluted land of Hong

Kong, at 4:44pm. It took seven long, cruel years for me to escape from that

cesspool to the glorious land of Canada.

The Chocolate Chunk

... In Canada, I moved to Burnaby, and attended Parkcrest Elementary for

about three days. After those three days my parents claimed there were too

many "bad" kids there and transferred me to Aubrey Elementary where I

attended from grade two to grade seven. When I was in grade two I had

this really exuberant teacher called Ms Healey who was a bit messed in the

head. She made us say "Good Morning Ms Healey" every morning and it

would drive us all crazy. Then when I advanced to grade three I had one of

the most useless teachers in the history of teachers, Ms Jackson. She taught

us absolutely nothing the whole year. So in grade four, I was really hoping

not to get her again, but, as fate likes to make our lives miserable, I got Ms

Jackson again and wasted another year learning absolutely nothing. I thought

then, that I had the worst teacher ever, but I was so wrong. In grade five I

met Ms Stuart, the mean, strict queen of terror and lost hope. A simple drop

of a pencil would lead to standing outside in the hall for hours. To correct her

when she made a mistake was total suicide. You'd be sent to the office for

hours to "wait for the principal to be free to talk to you" although she would

be clearly free the whole time. Then in grade six I had a pretty nice teacher,

she never got mad or annoyed…not even when I smashed the classroom

window accidentally. And grade seven…I forgot what happened then.

The Crumbs

... After surviving that tragic, forgotten year of seventh grade, I officially

graduated from elementary school and began to attend Burnaby North

Secondary. Grade eight passed by without much happening, except my

socials teacher had a few issues with me and so I was kicked out of honours

although I had more than enough, costing me $450 which I spent on taking

Socials 11 in summer school. Grade nine also passed by smoothly, with

nothing worth mentioning. In grade ten, nothing interested happened too,

so now you have me entering grade eleven and already counting down the

days until summer…