R+drafting

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__Drafting and Editing Page__
Eric carefully dodged the half-chewed swimming floats, balancing an open carton of sour beetroot juice in one hand, and five straws in the other.

Eric was busy watching Brett Richet drown and doing so, Corey, Eric's younger brother hit the trap he set up for his snotty brother. His feet, hooked around the box of floats, gave no sign of standing. Eric could hear the slow mumbling of the hot dog seller and the gentle splashing of the calm movements that were produced by several young ones which lay floating a few feet away. Suddenly the whole world seemed to pause. A beach ball hung in the air, barely escaping the hands of a seven year old girl, the hot dog seller, an unfinished yawn and Eric, an inch from the smooth tiled floor. The beetroot juice shot out his right hand and landed in the pool.

"Darnit-that cost me ten dollars!" exclaimed Eric, pulling himself up while tugging at his mop of back, knotty hair.

Meanwhile, the red beetroot juice crawled its way around the pool. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his head, yet he sensed the footsteps that shadowed him.

Dad.

"Dangnabbit, Eric, what have you done?"

"Ughh," Eric replied to his dad.

The young Crogan could see the muscles in his father's arms tense and the vains in his forehead bulge forward.

As Mr Crogan reached down to retrieve the beetroot carton, he half yelled, half squeaked:"That was my ten dollars! You're cleaning the pool,Mr."

Eric Crogan sighed and recieved the empty carton from his dad's hands-Mr Crogan laughed.

As Eric raised his eyebrows, his dad explained:Your great great great great great uncle K.Alexandra did the same thing, on purpose of course, it all started in 1776....."You could hear the tiny legs of the beetles tiptoeing on the solid glass walls. Every insect was visible in the soil that covered the hide out house. The consecutive flashing from one of the many lightbulbs that were used to light up the seceret agent's hide-out made it seem as if morning and night flashed by quickly. K.Alexandra's murmuring into the hanging phone, echoed around the room. The gentle splashing of the calming waterbed gave the spy the need to visit the lavatory. A single rope hung from the high, glass ceiling waiting for its owner to grab onto it to swing to the doorway and exit, that lay on the top. Sudden speaking often filled the room when a big red button was pushed causing a screen(connected to a FBI's camera) which set a hand scan ready to suss out an unexpected visitor. A bookshelf held many books, yet one of the thousand led to a seceret exit, alongside it a doorway to K.A Crogans gadget cellar. The smell of dead bugs and fertilized soil filled the air__.__ Suddenly the secret screen came down, it was the FBI reporting to K. Alexander on a secret mission. " Alexander, Alexander, you there," came from the deep, raspy voice of the FBI general. "Yeah, i'm here," K. Alexander reported. "Good we need to send you on a mission, considering you are the best secret agent we have. This is very important, so don't mess it up!! We are sending you to Downtown London to look for a robber who stole $500,000 worth of cash in a briefcase. This was stolen from the Queen's palace in London. This guy is very violent so be careful....." The screen abruptly shut off. Alexander hopped in his secret car, that was undergroud. He went speeding through the rocks and sand tunnels. He was off, as usual, on a secret mission....

**London, England... 3:00... Wednesday**
K Alexander looked out the plane window, watching the plane land on the runway. He was overwhelmed from tiredness, being on the long, muscular plane for 10 hours. But he couldn't be tired, he had a mission to complete. He was off to the Queen's palace to meet with the police, on the robber who stole the $500,000. The limo slowly drove into the lucious palace. Outside stood sheriffs and police..

A faint ‘ahem’ was the first greeting he was given.

“Alexander,” a voice, so low it could only be Sir Montorsy (Head Police), called from the shadows. K.Alexander looked up, a pale dry hand called him over.

Montorsy was like a helpless teddy whose stuffing had been forcefully sucked out. His peeling skin stretched over his bony cheekbones that perched itself out of the heartless face. Nothing but skin was wrapped around the brittle body. Alexander reached to shake the old man’s hand, it was like touching old, frail paper.

“Good day,” the spy replied taking a quick glance of the sky above, hoping he made no mistake of the time of day.” How was your journey, good?”

“My journey was most adequate, shall we begin,” he said, changing the subject.

As they entered the home of Queen Victoria they passed by two corgis waddling along the crystal stone floor like two short men in high heels after a visit to the pub. There were mirrors lined up against every inch of the walls, reflecting every shadow, every ghost that lingered in the house of royalty.

“Here is the royal majesty, sir,” murmured a butler, who was obviously bored of his job as his shoulders slumped as well as a noticeable yawn that he produced during a halt.

A blood red curtain swung open like it was a musical- a fake smile sprawled on a beautiful face, appeared.

The Queen.

“Your majesty, K.Alexander,” the Crogan was the first to react, bending down low to bow.

“Hmmm…” the Queen replied, eyeing Montorsy, waiting for a bow and greeting.

Nothing came.

The Queen’s red, shiny lips (made of plastic) moulded into a thin, straight line. Her silky long black hair was a child’s pen ink spilled all over a clean, polished table. Her fingers curled into tight fists-.

“We’re here to talk about the case of the missing briefcase,” said K.Alexander, the number 1 spy, spotting the red spots appear on the pale cheeks of Elizabeth II.

After a tiring meeting with several boring, important people they found out the time & date in thirty different languages of the theft and the location of the robber: Downtown London.

Haley, I was wondering if you could finish the rest of the story, if you can thanks ALOT!! It would help me out! D