You know how some high schools have a parenting project where you partner up and have to learn the responsibilities of parenting using eggs or flour bags or fancy pants dolls that actually wet, poop, and scream and measure what you really do with it? If Devil’s Eye was one of those dolls, I would be that student who yanked the batteries out and chucked the whole thing in a dumpster because it won’t quit pooping and screaming.
At the moment it would be more likely to make people run fast and far the other way, telling everyone along the way how much my work sucks and don’t ever read another thing by me. Which is, of course, the exact opposite of what it is intended to do.
It’s become this Chuckie Problem Child of a book, and I’m just tired of dealing with it. And it just needs to Go Away. Except that it can’t go away because then I wouldn’t get an A, and it would ruin my 4.0 and that is simply Unacceptable.
So armed with the critique from the Pink Hammer of Doom, I’m going dumpster diving to try to salvage my grade. Somebody pass the bandaids.