The Terrible Two

Crashing and thrashing around the corner like a typhoon, the mop-like thing came at me. Right on its tail came a hulking tyrannosaurs of a dog. The sound of nails sctratching for traction on the hard wood floor were a warning siren to my ears. I felt like I was stuck in glue as i tried to put my arms in front of my face. The mop's eyes seemed to be glinting with the cruel message, too late! I saw her legs compress then spring up into an accelerated leap. All thirty pounds of her came crashing down on me, causing binders and pencils and all sorts of important papers that I would have to turn in agian anyway, to crack and crumble like delicate fallen leaves between the fingers of child. Before I could shove the mop off and stop the stabbing pain of a pencil in one side and my Lang Arts binders attempting to close on my head, there was another hundred pounds on top of me. The two monsters were snapping and growling and I was the injured victim that got the brunt of it. With a shove and a grunt I unearthed myself from the snarling dogs and began to check if I was whole. The terrible two paid me no mind, they just kept playing and nipping while I ranted my anger and disapproval at being used as a fighting ground. This what I have to live with, my mother's tyrannosaurs Piggy, and my fiesty mop, Mayday. Together they were more feracious than two girls fighting over the last two-for-one shirt.