Where The Wild Things Aren't | Teen Ink

Where The Wild Things Aren't

May 1, 2010
By SpecialKPRO SILVER, Bentonville, Arkansas
SpecialKPRO SILVER, Bentonville, Arkansas
6 articles 0 photos 6 comments

Favorite Quote:
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.<br /> <br /> -Mark Twain


So, I’m guessing many of you have read that book of lies entitled “Where the Wild Things Are.” It is all complete and utter garbage! Before we really get going on this epic adventure, I would just like to take the time to clarify that this is not a cheap parody, nor will it ever be made into a movie.

The reason I refer to the afore mentioned book as garbage, is as follows:
A human has never ventured into our world
We would never make him king. (Unless, of course, it was Brad Pitt.)
We do not participate in anything called a “wild rumpus.”

Are ya getting my point? This book portrays my world as a 24/7 party. Life here is exceedingly hard, we have to be wild and are referred to as “things.” Honestly, I find it kind of offensive. I am not a thing. I am a girl, my name’s Abbi.

I live in the land where the wild things are. Everyone’s constantly roaring their terrible roars and gnashing their terrible teeth. I am sick of it! I don’t like to roar because it hurts my vocal chords. I don’t like to gnash my teeth because.. well it just doesn’t seem like a very good idea. All this has lead me to the realization that I must leave.



Lets just have a quick flashback on tonight’s events so you’ll better understand my reasoning….. Weeeeeooooooowwwweeeoooooo!!!! (flashback music.)

I wasn’t creating mischief. That’s it! I wasn’t chasing poor animals with eating utensils or nailing things to the walls.

“Abbi, you’re a wimp,” my mother told me, in a rude yet somehow motherly way.

“I’ll…I’ll… eat you up!” I yelled knowing that’s exactly what she wanted to hear. I guess I wasn’t convincing enough, because she sent me to bed without my monster meal.


So here I am, in my room…. all alone. I’m leaving and that’s it! I don’t even really know where I’m going to go, as long as its far far away I’m fine with it.



Oh my gosh!

What’s happening to the vines that hang from my ceiling? Where are all my slimy rocks going? Everything in my room is shifting, changing, morphing into something new and very very strange.

This was the closest thing to being high I’ve ever felt. (Not that I have any idea what that would feel like.) Everything looked squiggly. However, that would be the wrong words to describe this. It was very beautiful in a strange way.

The dirt-covered jungle floor of my bedroom changed to hard rock, that I later learned was concrete. The walls disappeared and I suddenly was encompassed by buildings that were millions of feet tall. These strange yellow things with wheels whizzed by me making strange noises that sounded like when a fat lady sits on a duck. HHHHOOOONNNKKKK!!!

Everywhere I turned I was surrounded by strange, interesting things. Unfortunately I kept turning for like five minutes, bad idea. I ended up covering the concrete with my stomach acid. Icky, I know.

I turned around to a shop window that had purses and shoes inside it that had a hilarious word written on them. Gucci. Oh goodness, just looking at that word makes me elated. I also noticed that all of my monster mane was gone. I wasn’t even that concerned.

Suddenly, a bearded man driving one of those yellow rolling things pulled up beside me.

“Hey, need a ride” he inquired.

“Uhh.. what is this?”

“A cab. DUH! Where have you been the last one hundred years?”

“Well actually I was in the land where the wi- I mean the land.. where.. the wittle.. people wive. YA KNOW!!! The wonderful land of Oz!” That was almost a disaster. Luckily, I saved the day with my amazing ability to mock speech impediments.

“Oh.. right. Well get in.”

I did as I was told. His beard frightened me.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked randomly.

“Take me to your leader.” I have seen enough alien movies to know this is what you do when you find yourself in odd places.

“HAHA! Well, hun, the president lives in D.C. But I can take you to Trump Tower. Donald Trump and Oprah Winfrey basically own the whole world. Oprah lives in Chicago, I think. The Jonas Brothers also own the minds of young girls, but they aren’t really ‘leaders’.”

Do you see how that was relevant? Me neither.



We drove. And drove. And drove. For ten minutes.

Turns out Trump Tower is gargantuan!! The next ten minutes were a complete blur. Somehow I found my way to the man, Donald Trump himself.

“…sorry mom, I love you but you’re fired!” He said as he hung up the phone. Boy, people here are freaks!

“Uh, Mr. Trump, your highness, I was told you were the leader of this place… wherever this is.”

“What are you talking about? This is New York City. The Big Apple, and I’m not really the leader, more like the owner.”

“Oh well, then you won’t mind if I do this…” I said as I swiftly shanked him in the jugular vein.

He managed to mutter “you’re fired” before he passed out due to lack of blood flow to the brain. I just really didn’t appreciate his attitude, so after shanking him, I left.



I walked along the crowded streets for hours. It was starting to get dark and the crowds were waning. I ended up sleeping in a box that night, like somewhat of a hobo. My box was located between a McDonalds and a store that sold tie dye t-shirts and hookas, whatever those were.

I was awoken in the wee hours of the night by a group of dudes wearing their pants below their butts. They were doing a strange dance that looked like a woolly monkey mating ritual. They were poppin’ and lockin’ and getting low. So I joined them, of course. Turns out I am a very good break dancer, so they decided to make me a member of their crew. They even gave me a nickname “Beast.”

The crews leader was Kanye West. Turns out he was shunned after that incident with Taylor Swift so now he lives on the streets as a break dancer.

“Yo Beast! We’z gonna be hittin’ up the D.C. in like three hours. Wanna roll wit us?” Kanye asked.

Three hours later me, Kanye, G-Dawg, Jeez, Koast, and Fred were outside the gates of the White House.

“Hey Kanye, what is this place? Who lives here?” I asked.

“Beast you so funny!” exclaimed Fred.

“I dropped outta school at the age of three and even I know that. The Prez lives there.” Said Koast. Obviously he wasn’t very intelligent since he spelled his name wrong. Coast starts with a “c” everybody knows that.

“Is that your leader?”

“Yeah” replied Kanye.

“Then I’m going in!”

James Bond music began playing as Kanye and I swiftly changed into our Ninja Turtles outfits. We scaled the fence, slipped into the Invisibility Cloak I stole from Harry Potter, and dashed across the lawn. We slipped into the front door of the building easily.. too easily. Oh well. We slithered thru the many hallways until we came upon a huge white door. The door can see into your mind. The door can see into your soul! So we went in it.

Right there standing at the fridge drinking milk right out of the carton was Obama.

“Yo Obama, Imma let you finish, but Bill Clinton has the best presidential scandal ever!” Shouted Kanye.

Evidently drinking milk out of the carton is now scandalous.

That comment from Kanye got us thrown into a high security prison.
Woohoo!! So I never got to speak to the leader of this place. I eventually
went insane and proclaimed myself Queen of Narnia (while still in jail.) I
met Robert Pattinson, better known as Edward Cullen.

“Whatcha in for?” I asked.

“I sexually harassed Taylor Lautner.”

“Oh…well isn’t that… nice.” EEWW!!!


Suddenly, I smelled a smell that smelled smelly. And delicious! The
jail cell started to transform back into my room. I was home, safe! Away
from all the crazies!

I noticed that smell I smelled was steak my mom had brought up
from dinner.

Maybe my world wasn’t that bad, at least it wasn’t filled with
creepers like Edward Cullen.

The author's comments:
This was a creative writing peice im doing for English. Its making fun of "Where the Wild Things Are" among other things.

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JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 7 comments.


on Mar. 13 2011 at 3:57 pm
SilentlyRising GOLD, Decatur, Georgia
13 articles 0 photos 100 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;My pen is the barrel of the gun. Remind me which side you should be on.&quot;

Absolutely wonderful!  "The door can see into your mind. The door can see into your soul!"  Love the Charlie the Unicorn reference, but you know that THE DOOR can't really do all that...  Anywho, it was really funny, and I liked it.  Keep it up and write on!

on Jul. 6 2010 at 7:48 pm
SpecialKPRO SILVER, Bentonville, Arkansas
6 articles 0 photos 6 comments

Favorite Quote:
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.<br /> <br /> -Mark Twain

Haha! Dont make me reveal your true identity ;)

on Jul. 6 2010 at 2:57 pm
Trystan35 BRONZE, Noel, Missouri
1 article 0 photos 3 comments
Yes, yes you do. considering your screen name =)

on Jul. 6 2010 at 2:43 pm
SpecialKPRO SILVER, Bentonville, Arkansas
6 articles 0 photos 6 comments

Favorite Quote:
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.<br /> <br /> -Mark Twain

Thanks so much, I just have a very odd sense of humor, I suppose.

on Jul. 6 2010 at 2:40 pm
Trystan35 BRONZE, Noel, Missouri
1 article 0 photos 3 comments
I think its hilarious! I love the part about Robert Pattinson in jail because he harrassed Taylor Lautner!

on Jul. 6 2010 at 2:26 pm
SpecialKPRO SILVER, Bentonville, Arkansas
6 articles 0 photos 6 comments

Favorite Quote:
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.<br /> <br /> -Mark Twain

Im very sorry you were upset by the first sentence, trust me this is not my opinion on the book. Actually, I quite enjoy Where the Wild Things are, its a classic! Everything written here would be from Abbi's point of veiw, so this is what she thinks. :)

on May. 21 2010 at 4:47 am
fireeyedgirl SILVER, Dulles, Virginia
7 articles 0 photos 23 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;I think that most of us, anyway, read these stories that we know are not &quot;true&quot; because we&#039;re hungry for another kind of truth: the mythic truth about human nature in general, the particular truth about those life-communities that define our own identity, and the most specific truth of all: our own self-story. Fiction, because it is not about someone who lived in the real world, always has the possibility of being about oneself. &quot;<br /> &mdash; Orson Scott Card

When I read the first sentance of this story I was blinded by rage. However, by the second paragraph I was pleasantly surprised. I laughed my way through all the rest of it. Well done!