The Freshest Essay Ever

Now I'm not not one blow my own trumpet (I couldn't afford the operation), but there is one event in my life in which I allow myself to boast a bit..   

Back in the olden days when people danced to the Nokia ringtone, and when Big Brother was still a social experiment, I was studying for my A Levels. My favourite was English Language which taught me about the formation of language, coinage of words, how to use language to its maximum effect, that kind of stuff. One of the modules was a creative writing essay which I especially relished. I scored 86/90 on it, which pretty much shits on an A grade. They almost gave me a super A, until the examiners realised that no such mark exists. 

Anyway, I thought I'd reproduce my masterwork here and let you see for yourselves how great it is:

Now this is a story all about how the events of my life were, as my streetwise peers would say, "flipped, turned upside down".  I would like to take minute of your time, so ensure you're sitting comfortably, as I regale you with the tale of how I transcended to an almost Monarch-esque stature in a town called Bel Air.

I used to reside on the Western side of the city of Philadelphia. You could say that I was born and raised there, since that's what I was. On a playground is where I spent most of days, to the point where I was far too old and it was a little inappropriate. I used to "chill out max and relax all cool", and participate in impromptu games of basketball outside of the school. Then a couple of local scoundrels with dangerous intent, started making trouble in my neighbourhood. This escalated into a minor scuffle in which I was mildly injured, causing my mother to fear for my safety. She was scared so she made arrangements for me move in with my auntie and uncle in Bel Air.

I begged and pleaded with her for days upon days, but she was undeterred as she relentless threw my clothes in a suitcase and sent me on my way.  After giving me a bittersweet peck on the cheek to try and allay my fears that I had fallen out of her favour, she gave me my plane ticket.  As I grew resigned to this rejection, I put on my walkman and thought "I might as well kick it" (the situation that is, not the walkman.  A walkman is an expensive piece of equipment and should never be kicked). 

I sat in the relative luxury of first class, which was so good it was bad, as my peers would describe it.  I ordered a glass of orange juice and sipped it finely from a champaign glass.  At this point I was still under the legal age to drink, and the cabin crew had refused my request for a lager cocktail.  As I reclined in my seat, I pondered to myself if this is what the people of Bel Air live like.  Hmmmm, this might be alright.

When I touched down I whistled for a cab (or taxi, if you struggle to understand my lingo). As it approached, screeching to a halt near the curb, I noticed several peculiar things about the vehicle. Firstly, the license plate said "Fresh", and there were fluffy dice on the mirror. If anything I would say that this cab was rare, but I dismissed it, climbed, and yelled in an obnoxiously excited manner "yo home, to Bel Air!"

I arrived at my uncle's property around 7:00 or 8:00 (frankly, I was too excited by those fluffy dice to correctly recall my exact arrival time), and I yelled to the cabbie "yo holmes, smell you later!". He wasn't phased. He'd had an entire journey to come to terms with my blatant lack of manners. I surveyed what was soon to be my kingdom and realised that I was finally there, I would sit on my throne as the prince of Bel Air.

All events portrayed in this story are 100% true, as much as the material is 100% original.

A copycat who read my essay