I messed around on the internet for another twenty minutes, playing online games and such, before checking my email again. I was surprised to find that my classmate had already replied to my letter. I opened the e-mail and read its contents.

It read: “Great job. The story was very cute, not at all what I expected. I haven’t known you for long, but you don’t seem like the type of guy who would write a story like this. I think everyone else in class will like it though.”

“Cute?” I wondered. “Surely he must be joking. At least he complimented my “great job.” He obviously recognizes superb writing talent when he sees it.” I went to bed later that night, content with my asserted status as tomorrow’s “King of the Classroom.”

The next day I woke up late, and realized that, while basking in my glory, I had forgotten to set my alarm clock. I quickly began gathering everything I needed for my day at school. In need of speedy assistance, I called my mother and asked her to print out ‘The Perfect Story’ on my laptop. By agreeing, I could squeeze out just enough time for a quick shower.

I tried to relax a little, so I wouldn’t panic at being late. After finishing with the shower, I quickly dressed, and met mom in the living room. She handed me a brown, Manila envelope and said my story was sealed inside.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I read your work while you were showering, and really enjoyed the story,” she said. “I bet everyone at school likes it, too. It’s very cute.”

I shot her a weird glance and awkwardly said “thanks” as I stuffed my laptop in a carry-bag and lugged it out the door. During my drive to school, I had time to let my mother’s comment eat at me. “Cute?” I pondered. “Didn’t my classmate say the same thing in his e-mail?

“How could they think the story was cute? There was nothing cute about it! My mom isn’t normally sarcastic, but she could’ve been joking. But that still doesn’t explain my classmate’s comment. Even using sarcasm, one of them should have mentioned something about the chainsaws, or the zombies. Plus, I felt like I was just getting petty compliments. Where’s the recognition of my genius?”

I drew the thought from my mind for the moment and focused on getting to school. The traffic was surprisingly light, so I managed to arrive with 10 minutes to spare; I wouldn’t be late to class! Outside the classroom I decided to solve the “cute” mystery once and for all. After all, nothing my mother or my classmate said made sense. Well, nothing except for the part about how great it was.

PI tore open the envelope and read my story. I immediately noticed something was different. This wasn’t my story—this wasn’t my story at all. The more I read, the more horrified I became. The blurb said:

“I like kitties. Fluffy, happy kitty cats. One day I went to go play in the meadow with some of my kitty friends. One of the kitties asked me to “hold on,” and said that he wanted to go get some of his other friends. Then he got lots of other kitties too, and they were all just as cute as him! Then I petted them, and they purred, and they were very happy kitties, and I was very happy too! After a long day of playing with the kittens, I asked them if we could do this again sometime, and they said “yes, I’d love to!” And so me and the kitties were best friends and lived happily ever after. The end.”

“How could this have happened?” I thought in a stupor. And then it hit me. I picked up my cell phone and called home. My mom picked up, and I asked her to put Sis on the line. About twenty long seconds passed before Sis said, “Hello?”

“Sis, what did you do to my story?” I asked, exasperated.