We'll get the crappy stuff out of the way first. Here is a history report I wrote around the 5th grade or so. If I remember correctly, my parents saw this report before I turned it in and immediately made me write another one. This glorious masterpiece sat alone and unread in a box for over sixteen years, never to be appreciated: Until now! I give you: Page one:

I noticed a few things right away. First of all, I can't draw 90 degree angles. Now how hard is it to line up your dairy to your lavatory? The dairy must be parallel to your lavatory, and your lavatory should be visible from your entrance. 

I misspelled farmhouse. I'll let tat one slide.

Point to ponder: I wonder if it's true if the farmhouses had one room where everyone slept on wooden benches. How did anybody get it on viking-style with everybody sleeping in the same room?

In the last paragraph of page one, I try to describe a picture in my history book. I thought it was funny. I describe Viking clothes as "nerdy" while I wore an Ocean Pacific shirt and a Michael Jackson jacket with corduroy pants.

Okay, on to the next page!

Here we see a literary version of pointing and hooting like a monkey. This paragraph is not informative or necessary. I am embarrassed.

Cliff's notes version: They traded for gold and furs. As for the rest of the paragraph, I should've just STFU.

Okay, here's where I turn into a total asshole. First, I constantly mix up my singulars and plurals, then I begin writing in annoying 80's slang. At the time, I must've seriously thought I was being funny. With the writing skills of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle with Down's Sydrome, I continue to bastardize the English language...

Smartass little punk. Back in my day, our parents gave us discipline in the form of whippings. It wasn't child abuse. It was a useful tool to keep us in line. Reading this report, I can honestly tell you that I deserved every one of them.

Page 2: Revenge of the Louis Armstrong Robot!