Mr. Donut

By Inga and Cecilia.

I am Mr. Donut. This is my diary. I’m going to tell you a story about me and my life. Come on, follow me. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I’m a cat.

Friday: Like on a regular Friday, I was sitting in the kitchen and eating my donuts, well, my owner’s donuts. And then Ms. Funny, my owner, looked at me and I knew she was mad. For some reason, I imagined that she was made of donuts. But of course, she wasn’t. That night I couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t made of donuts.
Saturday: In the morning I ran down to Ms. Funny and jumped on her.
I think she was mad because she was saying “stop, get down.” She put me on the couch, and I fell asleep. I slept very well that morning; I had a good dream, it was about a city made of donuts and their president, Donut Trump, who ate a donut and sat on the couch and watched TV. But when I came to Donut Trump’s house he, looked up and said: “please eat all of my donuts.” I said “ok,” but then he started saying “wake up, wake up.”
And then I woke up. It was Ms. Funny, she woke me up…she wanted me to chase a mouse that was in the kitchen, but of course, I was way too lazy for that.

To be continued…

 

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