Mrs. Peter's Pens

"Oh pooh," said Mrs. Polly Peters to her pet parrot Petey. "Where did I put that pen?"

"Petey's pens," said Petey Peters, bobbing his green head up and down inside his cage.

Mrs. Peters started looking for her pen. She crept under the desk, until only her pink penny-loafers were showing.

"The pen is not under here!" she said. When Mrs. Peters crawled back out, she was all dusty.

Next, Mrs. Peters crawled around the pink rug, looking for her pen. Her nose was close to the floor, because she had forgotten to put on her glasses. She looked like a pink-and-purple puppy dog.

Petey bobbed up and down excitedly in his cage. He wanted to play the new game too.

Mrs. Peters looked inside all the flowerpots on the windowsill. But she still could not find her pen.

"I have misplaced four pens this past week," Mrs. Peters said with a frown. "This is a most maddening mystery."

Mrs. Peters was a poet. She wrote poems for Petunia Press. She used her pink and purple pens every day. Mrs. Peters had no pink and purple pens left, so she put on her hat and went to Patsy's Odds 'N Ends to purchase some pens.

Mrs. Peters told Patsy her problem. Patsy sold Mrs. Peters a purple pen holder in which to put her pens.

"This will put an end to misplaced pens," said Mrs. Peters.

Mrs. Peters placed the purple pen holder on her desk and put her pink and purple pens inside it. The next morning, they were gone!

"This is perfectly preposterous!" cried Mrs. Peters.

Petey Peters peered out of his cage.

"Petey's pens," Petey remarked, blinking his brown eyes at her.

"Petey Peters," said Mrs. Peters. "Someone is stealing my pens."

"Petey's pens," agreed Petey Peters, bobbing his green head up and down.

"We must catch the thief," Mrs. Peters exclaimed.

Mrs. Peters went to Patsy's to buy more pink and purple pens. She also purchased a Polaroid camera. When Mrs. Peters got home, she placed the pink and purple pens inside the purple pen holder. Then, she covered Petey Peters' cage with a pink and purple polka-dotted cover and put herself to bed.

At midnight, Mrs. Peters snuck out of bed with her newly purchased Polaroid. She perched on a purple cushion in the doorway.

Soon, Mrs. Peters heard a plink. Then Mrs. Peter's heard a flapping sound and a thump. "I caught you red handed!" shouted Mrs. Peters, snapping a picture on her Polaroid. There came a clatter, a flapping sound, and another plink.

Mrs. Peters turned on the light. A purple pen lay on the floor! The pink and purple polka-dotted cover on Petey's cage was crooked. A pair of brown eyes peered out at her.

Mrs. Peters watched the Polaroid picture develop. Soon she saw Petey Peters, her pet parrot, pulling a purple pen out of the purple pen holder!

"Petey Peters have you been taking my pens?"demanded Mrs. Peters, pulling the pink and purple polka-dotted cover off of his cage.

Petey peered out at her.

"Petey's pens."

Mrs. Peters pulled up the papers from the bottom of Petey's cage. Underneath the papers, she found all of her pink and purple pens! Mrs. Peters was pretty peeved with Petey. She purchased a new cage with a door that Petey could not open. Then Mrs.Peters took away all of Petey's pens.

Except for one purple and pink striped pen.

Now, whenever Mrs. Polly Peters takes out her pink and purple pens to write poems for Petunia Press, Petey Peters pulls out his favorite pen so he can play too.

Selengkapnya...

Bakery Bear

A Tongue Twister Tale

Brenda was busy baking a batch of blueberry muffins in the kitchen of Butler's Bakery when the bell rang.

"Be with you in a bit," Brenda called, brushing her blond braid over her shoulder.

Brenda put the blueberry muffins into the oven and bustled into the store. A big brown bear stood with his paws on the counter.

"Grumph," said the big brown bear.

"Aaaaa!" said Brenda Butler.

Brenda ran out through the back door to get Bill Boyle, the policeman.

"Bill, there is a big brown bear in the bakery!" Brenda cried.

"A bear?" Bill asked.

Bill followed Brenda into the bakery. The bear was busy eating blintz's and a bunch of bagels. It looked at Bill Boyle and grunted bad-temperedly.

"Here bear. Nice bear," Bill said nervously.

The bear gave Bill a baleful grin. Bill backed away. The bear ambled toward Bill. Bill ran.

"Oh boy," Brenda babbled and fled from the store.

"I'd better call Barney," Bill told Brenda.

Barney Blake was the local dogcatcher for the town of Bradley. Barney drove up in his big blue van and hopped out.

"Where's the bear?" Barney asked Brenda.

"It's in the bakery," Brenda said.

Barney took a big net and went into the bakery. Brenda heard a bang. Grabbing a broom from the closet, Brenda rushed into the store. Barney was standing on a bench, waving his arms and yelling "Shoo!" at the bear. The bear was biting Barney's black boots hungrily.

Brenda beat the bear with the broom. "Back off, you big bully," Brenda shouted.

When the bear bit the broom, Barney jumped off the bench and ran out of the bakery. Brenda followed.

"What happened to your net?" asked Brenda breathlessly.

"The bear broke it," said Barney.

A wave off smoke came billowing out the back door of the bakery.

"My blueberry muffins are burning!" cried Brenda. She raced into the kitchen.

As Brenda removed the burnt blueberry muffins from the oven, the bear came into the kitchen.

"Shoo you bumbling brute," Brenda said to it. "You are bad for business. You made me burn my muffins."

Brenda threw a blueberry muffin at the bear. The bear ate the muffin and went back into the store.

"Is it gone?" asked Bill, as he and Barney came cautiously into the kitchen.

"The bear is in the store," said Brenda. "I have a plan."

Brenda sent Bill to get some honeycomb and had Barney back his van behind the bakery. Meanwhile, Brenda beat up a batch of buttermilk biscuits. Then she mixed the honey from the honeycomb into the batter. Soon, the kitchen was bursting with the smell of honey buttermilk biscuits.

The loud banging noises the bear was making in the bakery store ceased abruptly as the bear smelled the honey. Brenda carried the big batch of biscuits out to the van. Bill opened the back door. The breeze blew the smell of the honey-buttermilk biscuits into the bakery. The bear nudged open the swinging door of the bakery and ambled into the kitchen. He knocked over the big brown bowl and grumbled when he found no honey.

Then the bear sniffed his way out the back door. Brenda had placed the basket of biscuits at the back of Barney's van. The bear bounded up the ramp and Barney banged the door shut. Brenda and Bill cheered.

"I will take the bear back to the forest and let him out," said Barney.

While Barney and the bear drove away in the blue van, Brenda and Bill bustled back into the bakery to clean up.

Selengkapnya...

The Axe Murder Hollow

Susan and Ned were driving through a wooded empty section of highway. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, the sky went dark in the torrential downpour.      “We’d better stop,”  said Susan.       Ned nodded his head in agreement. He stepped on the brake, and suddenly the car started to slide on the slick pavement. They plunged off the road and slid to a halt at the bottom of an incline.     Pale and shaking, Ned quickly turned to check if Susan was all right.  When she nodded, Ned relaxed and looked through the rain soaked windows.
     “I’m going to see how bad it is,” he told Susan, and when out into the storm. She saw his blurry figure in the headlight, walking around the front of the car. A moment later, he jumped in beside her, soaking wet.       “The car’s not badly damaged, but we’re wheel-deep in mud,” he said. “I’m going to have to go for help.”      Susan swallowed nervously. There would be no quick rescue here. He told her to turn off the headlights and lock the doors until he returned.      Axe Murder Hollow. Although Ned hadn’t said the name aloud, they both knew what he had been thinking when he told her to lock the car.  This was the place where a man had once taken an axe and hacked his wife to death in a jealous rage over an alleged affair. Supposedly, the axe-wielding spirit of the husband continued to haunt this section of the road.      Outside the car, Susan heard a shriek, a loud thump, and a strange gurgling noise. But she couldn’t see anything in the darkness.      Frightened, she shrank down into her seat. She sat in silence for a while, and then she noticed another sound.  Bump. Bump. Bump.  It was a soft sound, like something being blown by the wind.       Suddenly, the car was illuminated by a bright light.  An official sounding voice told her to get out of the car. Ned must have found a police officer.  Susan unlocked the door and stepped out of the car.  As her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she saw it.      Hanging by his feet from the tree next to the car was the dead body of Ned.  His bloody throat had been cut so deeply that he was nearly decapitated. The wind swung his corpse back and forth so that it thumped against the tree. Bump. Bump. Bump.     Susan screamed and ran toward the voice and the light. As she drew close, she realized the light was not coming from a flashlight. Standing there was the glowing figure of a man with a smile on his face and a large, solid, and definitely real axe in his hands. She backed away from the glowing figure until she bumped into the car.        “Playing around when my back was turned,” the ghost whispered, stroking the sharp blade of the axe with his fingers. “You’ve been very naughty.”      The last thing she saw was the glint of the axe blade in the eerie, incandescent light. Selengkapnya...

The Legend of Surabaya

A long time ago in East Java there were two strong animals, Sura and Baya. Sura was a shark and Baya was a crocodile. They lived in a sea. Actually, they were friends. But when they were hungry, they were very greedy. They did not want to share their food. They would fight for it and never stop fighting until one of them gave up.

It was a very hot day. Sura and Baya were looking for some food. Suddenly, Baya saw a goat.
“Yummy, this is my lunch,” said Baya.

“No way! This is my lunch. You are greedy! I had not eaten for two days!” said Sura.
Then Sura and Baya fought again. After several hours, they were very tired. Sura had a plan to stop their bad behavior.

“I’m tired of fighting, Baya,” said Sura.

“Me too. What should we do to stop fighting? Do you have any idea?” asked Baya.
“Yes, I do. Let’s share our territory. I live in the water, so I look for food in the sea. And you live on the land, right? So, you look for the food also on the land. The border is the beach, so we will never meet again. Do you agree?” asked Sura.

“Hmm... let me think about it. OK, I agree. From today, I will never go to the sea again. My place is on the land,” said Baya.

Then they both lived in the different places. But one day, Sura went to the land and looked for some food in the river. He was very hungry and there was not much food in the sea. Baya was very angry when he knew that Sura broke the promise.

“Hey, what are you doing here? This is my place. Your place is in the sea!”

“But, there is water in the river, right? So, this is also my place!” said Sura.

Then Sura and Baya fought again. They both hit each other. Sura bit Baya's tail. Baya did the same thing to Sura. He bit very hard until Sura finally gave up. He went back to the sea. Baya was very happy. He had his place again.

The place where they were fighting was a mess. Blood was everywhere. People then always talked about the fight between Sura and Baya. They then named the place of the fight as Surabaya, it’s from Sura the shark and Baya the crocodile. People also put their fight as the symbol of Surabaya city. ***

Selengkapnya...

Sangkuriang

This is an example of how nature was converted into a legend, such as Bandung lake and Mt Tangkuban Perahu with the story of Queen Dayang Sumbi and her son Sangkuriang cited from Neuman va Padang (1971). Once Sangkuriang, whilst growing up, he was so naughty and got hurt and the wound formed an ugly scar.

The King, who loved his son above everything was so furious that his son had hurt himself that he rejected his wife. Fifteen years later, being of age, Sangkuriang asked his father permission to take a trip to West Java. After arriving in the plain of Bandung, he met a beautiful lady, fell in love and ask her to marry him and she accepted. But one day when she caressed her lover’s head she saw the wound. The loving woman, turned out to be the disowned queen, discovered that she was in love with her son and marriage was impossible.

Sangkuriang

The marriage had to be prevented. Not willing to admit that she was his mother she thought of a way out. The day before the wedding was due to take place, she said to her husband to be, tomorrow is our wedding day, and if you are true to your love to me and love me as much you say do then I want to celebrate the wedding on board a ship, a proa. Tomorrow morning at day break, I want to sail with you on a great lake in a nice boat and there must be a banquet feast. Sangkuriang was embarrassed but he was not willing to refuse. He begged the help of the lake’s helpful spirits. By causing a landslide, the lake spirit dammed the river Citarum that flowed through the plain of Bandung. The force of the water felled big tree and a boat was constructed while other lake spirits prepared the wedding banquet.

Early in the morning the Queen saw that the impossible had been realised so she prayed to Brama, the mighty God, to help her to prevent the disgrace of a marriage between a mother and her son. Brama destroyed the dam in turbulence and Sangkuriang was drowned. The queen in her agony threw herself on the capsized boat, breaking through the hull of the ship and was also drowned.

Now, the vast plain of Bandung is flanked on its north side by the volcano Tangkuban Perahu, the capsized boat. The Queen’s jump on the hull of the ship is the Kawah Ratu, the crater of the Queen. The hot fumaroles and tremors in the crater represent the tears of the sad mother still sobbing. East of Mt Tangkuban Perahu rises the Bukit Tunggul, trunk mountain, the trunk of the tree from which the boat was made and to the west we find Mt Burangrang, the “crown of leaves”. At many places along the shore of the lake Neolithic obsidian tools of primitive inhabitants are found and described by von Koeningswald (1935). These Neolithic people noticed that the hold was cut deeper and deeper by erosion caused by the lowering water. Finally only a marshy plain remained.

Centuries later the inhabitants of Bandung plain still know about the legend of the existence of a former lake. Not knowing anything about geology, but living in the taboos of spirit ghosts and Gods, geological facts were put together in a tale that was understandable.

Selengkapnya...

Malin Kundang

Long time ago, in a small village near the beach in West Sumatera, lived a woman and her son, Malin Kundang. Malin Kundang's father had passed away when he was a baby, and he had to live hard with his mother.

Malin Kundang was a healthy, dilligent, and strong child. He usually went to the sea to catch fish, and brought it to his mother, or sold it in the town.

One day, when Malin Kundang was sailing as usual, he saw a merchant's ship which was being raided by a small band of pirates. With his brave and power, Malin Kundang defeated the pirates. The merchant was so happy and asked Malin Kundang to sail with him. Malin Kundang agreed.

Many years later, Malin Kundang became a wealthty merchant, with a huge ship, loads of trading goods, many ship crews, and a beautiful wife. In his journey, his ship landed on a beach. The villagers reconigzed him, and the news ran fast in the town: Malin Kundang became a rich man and now he is here. His mother, in deepful sadnees after years of loneliness, ran to the beach to meet her beloved son again.

When the mother came, Malin Kundang, in front of his well dressed wife, his crews and his own gloriness, denied to meet that old, poor and dirty woman. For three times she begged Malin Kundang and for three times yelled at him. At last Malin Kundang said to her "Enough, old woman! I have never had a mother like you, a dirty and ugly peasant!" Then he ordered his crews to set sail.

Enraged, she cursed Malin Kundang that he would turn into a stone if he didn't apologize. Malin Kundang just laughed and set sail.

In the quiet sea, suddenly a thunderstorm came. His huge ship was wrecked and it was too late for Malin Kundang to apologized. He was thrown by the wave out of his ship, fell on a small island, and suddenly turned into stone.

(Adapted from a Minangkabau Folk Tale from West Sumatera) Selengkapnya...

Speech Script

Name : Didik Tri Wahyudi
Class : 1A (English Department)

Assalamualaikum Wr. Wb.
Excellency, ……………………..
Honorable, ……………………...
Respectable, …………………….
Unforgetable, …………………...
Happy brothers and sisters, ladies and gentlemen
First of all, let’s say thanks unto our God, Allah SWT who always gives us blessings and mercies so we can attend here in a good condition without any troubles and obstacles.
Secondly, may shalawat and salam always be given to our prophet Muhammad SAW who brought us from the darkness to the lightness. From Jahiliyah to Islamiyah namely Islamic religion.
Thirdly, thanks to MC who has given me chance to speak in front of you all.
Today, I am very happy to deliver my speech under the title Tourism in Nganjuk.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Last holiday on the seventh day after Idul Fitri, I went to Roro Kuning with my three friends. We wanted to go sight-seeing because we seldom meet. So, we used the time for refreshing together. It was completely different with Roro Kuning some years ago when I was still in Elementary School. At that time, Roro Kuning was still like a jungle, but now it’s been reconstructed and more interesting.
Actually Nganjuk has so many interesting tourism spots, but they haven’t been managed maximally. We can see from the north till the south. There are so many tourism spots like Margo Tresno Cave in Ngluyu, Anjuk Ladang Park, Anjuk Ladang Museum, Roro Kuning Waterfall, Sedudo and many more. And right now, there has been a water boom in Kertosono, The Legend Water Park. So, we have to love them because we are Nganjuk people. At least we know and of course visit the places.
We know that tourism has a big contribution for Government. It contributes more than 20 % beside the other sectors. So, if our tourism spots are well-known, it will give much taxes to Nganjuk government and it will develop Nganjuk as well. So, it’s the responsibility of all of us to create that goal.

Add caption

Government has responsibility to beautify the tourism spots like in Roro Kuning. It’s been renovated by government. When you go there, you will see parks; out-bond area, swimming pool, and an interesting scenery. And government always tries to improve the other tourism spots.
As Nganjuk people, we have to help the effort of government too. Firstly, we have to recognize all of the tourism spots in Nganjuk. People say that If you don’t recognize someone, you won’t love him. So, if we don’t know our tourism, how can’t we love them? Secondly, come on! Visit our tourism spots! It’s funny that Nganjuk people never visit Sedudo. So, at least we ever visit the places. And the last, we can promote our tourism spots to the others. When we have friends out of Nganjuk, we can tell them how beautiful Nganjuk is. Finally, our tourisms will move forward.
The conclusion is that the responsibility to improve the tourism spots in Nganjuk is at the hand of all of us; government and Nganjuk people. So, we are as educated people, let’s support the effort of government to improve our tourism spots by promoting them to our friends, relatives and all the people.
That’s all my speech. If you found any mistakes in speech, please forgive me. The last I say
Wassalamualaikum Wr. Wb. Selengkapnya...

A Haunted House

Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there, making sure--a ghostly couple.

"Here we left it," she said. And he added, "Oh, but here tool" "It's upstairs," she murmured. "And in the garden," he whispered. "Quietly," they said, "or we shall wake them."

But it wasn't that you woke us. Oh, no. "They're looking for it; they're drawing the curtain," one might say, and so read on a page or two. "Now they've found it,' one would be certain, stopping the pencil on the margin. And then, tired of reading, one might rise and see for oneself, the house all empty, the doors standing open, only the wood pigeons bubbling with content and the hum of the threshing machine sounding from the farm. "What did I come in here for? What did I want to find?" My hands were empty. "Perhaps its upstairs then?" The apples were in the loft. And so down again, the garden still as ever, only the book had slipped into the grass.

But they had found it in the drawing room. Not that one could ever see them. The windowpanes reflected apples, reflected roses; all the leaves were green in the glass. If they moved in the drawing room, the apple only turned its yellow side. Yet, the moment after, if the door was opened, spread about the floor, hung upon the walls, pendant from the ceiling--what? My hands were empty. The shadow of a thrush crossed the carpet; from the deepest wells of silence the wood pigeon drew its bubble of sound. "Safe, safe, safe" the pulse of the house beat softly. "The treasure buried; the room . . ." the pulse stopped short. Oh, was that the buried treasure?

A moment later the light had faded. Out in the garden then? But the trees spun darkness for a wandering beam of sun. So fine, so rare, coolly sunk beneath the surface the beam I sought always burned behind the glass. Death was the glass; death was between us, coming to the woman first, hundreds of years ago, leaving the house, sealing all the windows; the rooms were darkened. He left it, left her, went North, went East, saw the stars turned in the Southern sky; sought the house, found it dropped beneath the Downs. "Safe, safe, safe," the pulse of the house beat gladly. 'The Treasure yours."

The wind roars up the avenue. Trees stoop and bend this way and that. Moonbeams splash and spill wildly in the rain. But the beam of the lamp falls straight from the window. The candle burns stiff and still. Wandering through the house, opening the windows, whispering not to wake us, the ghostly couple seek their joy.

"Here we slept," she says. And he adds, "Kisses without number." "Waking in the morning--" "Silver between the trees--" "Upstairs--" 'In the garden--" "When summer came--" 'In winter snowtime--" "The doors go shutting far in the distance, gently knocking like the pulse of a heart.

Nearer they come, cease at the doorway. The wind falls, the rain slides silver down the glass. Our eyes darken, we hear no steps beside us; we see no lady spread her ghostly cloak. His hands shield the lantern. "Look," he breathes. "Sound asleep. Love upon their lips."

Stooping, holding their silver lamp above us, long they look and deeply. Long they pause. The wind drives straightly; the flame stoops slightly. Wild beams of moonlight cross both floor and wall, and, meeting, stain the faces bent; the faces pondering; the faces that search the sleepers and seek their hidden joy.

"Safe, safe, safe," the heart of the house beats proudly. "Long years--" he sighs. "Again you found me." "Here," she murmurs, "sleeping; in the garden reading; laughing, rolling apples in the loft. Here we left our treasure--" Stooping, their light lifts the lids upon my eyes. "Safe! safe! safe!" the pulse of the house beats wildly. Waking, I cry "Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart." Selengkapnya...