Outlaw Boot

Spencer wrote an essay that won the school district writing contest, and this week was the awards ceremony. There were over 100 students from grades K-12 recognized, with 2 from each grade for each category. He won the imaginative essay category and was one of the few students asked to read his piece at the event. Naturally he really hammed it up and cracked up the audience. Afterwards the lady in charge whispered to him that his piece was her favorite. Then some of the teachers and a principle from another school told him how great his essay was and asked him what school he attends. His teacher overheard them; she came and put her arm around him and proudly exclaimed, "He's mine!" She wrote an article about the event in the town newspaper, including a picture of Spencer (holding his award and wearing cowboy boots) and his entire essay, and she gave him a copy at school. He came home so excited to be in print. Since I know you're dying to read it, here it is:

Outlaw Boot, by Spencer

Oh my gosh, be quiet already. It’s only 5:00 in the morning! Oh hi, sorry, my brother is having one of his "moments.’’ But enough of that. My name is Lefty; my brother’s McRight. I call him Right'n'poop. You see, me ‘n my brother are cowboy boots, and every day we roam the plains with our owner.

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I’m a brown none strap 100% cowhide cowboy boot. I’m size ten and perfect for rounding cattle. Then there’s m’ brother. He’s technically the same, but to me, he’s a downright lazy, worthless piece of leather.
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Wow, 7:00 already. Uh-oh, the shepherd spaniel, or dog. It’s coming closer, closer. Ouch! Man, you have yellow teeth. Hey, two words: breath mint! Please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me. McRight, do something, ‘n quick!! Ok, what’s going on? I hear slurping, I see four big logs with food on top, and I smell yesterday’s jerky. Eek, the bombing area! I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go catch me some breakfast. See you at the ranch.

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Well it smells like manure again, an… SQUISH! Oh, it feels like it too! Gosh, stop laughing already, McRight. Besides, it’s not all bad. I mean, I could have also stepped in...SPLASH- mud! Just forget it. Huh, that’s funny. We’re going to the bank; hey, why are you loading a gun? Whoa, whoa, whoa! I thought the cashier was your best frien…BANG!! Too late. Hey McRight, don’t you just haaate it when you get stained with blood? Ha, ha, ha.
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Well, as we speak, I’m a hightailing home for another restless day. I can’t wait ‘till we’re sitting ‘round the campfire, listening to folk music, counting money, and eatin’ overcooked chili by the light of the fire. This cowboy outta thank me some day, because without me, he’d be in laying n’ Boot hill.