WRITE!

Bobby Murphy
Per. 6 Physics
Desk E-1
9-10-07

Scientific Method Report

As I walked into Room 217 of the Nassau Bay Hilton Hotel I immediately noticed the body of one T.J. Visentini, a former member of the National Physics educators association, on the ground. From my primary observations there appeared to be no sign of death, apart from the dead body lying on the ground. I determined from these observations that the cause of death must have been internal.
I further scoped the room for any other detail that could help me determine the cause of death. I noticed a shot glass missing, as well as several bottles of alcohol which were half empty at the exposed mini bar. But what caught my eye more than anything else was the small residue of dust that I noticed near the body, later determined to be from the drug placebo monocarbonate.
I determined from these observations that there could only be a several few causes of death. Mr. Visentini could have died of an alcohol overdose, but that was unlikely. A background check revealed later that Visentini had never had a drink in his life, nor had he not previously had any drug overdose problems, meaning suicide was out of the question. He was content about life, and even more content about receiving the AP physics teacher position at Clear Creek high School, leaving him therefore with no motive or reason to commit suicide.
However, the hotel authorities later informed me during my investigation that a certain Miss Marthy Buzzworth, the previous AP physics teacher at the high school was found loitering earlier about the hotel trying to discover the whereabouts of T.J. Visentini. I conducted research to determine if Buzzworth had a motive. She Did! Visentini, who had demonstrated surperior, skills in the area of physics at the high school was granted a promotion leaving a jealous and envious Marthy Buzzworth out of a job. Hardly a motive to kill, but a motive, nevertheless. Buzzworth did carry a grudge against Visentini, and she was found at the hotel at the time at the murder. Just one thing remained before I could prove my hypothesis, was Marty Buzzworth present in or around room 217 at the time of the murder? Hotel footage later proved the answer to be yes.
I ultimately determined from all of my research, that Buzzworth had entered into visentini’s room and forced the placebo monocarbonate drug down his throat, which ultimately took effect and caused Visentini to die. To cover up her crime, buzzworth emptied the alcohol from the mini bar and stole a shot glass to make it appear that Visentini had died of an alcohol overdose. But she neglected the fact that Visentini had never had a drop of alcohol in his life, leading to her exposition. Therefore Miss Marthy Buzzworth is your killer.
Reference:
T.J. Visentini – Mr. Jim Vissentine, Physics CCHS
Marthy Buzzworth – Ms. Martha Bosworth, AP physics CCHS

The Canadian Flag
By: Bobby Murphy

1 A poem about the American flag is quite cliché
So listen here to this about the Canadian flag
Something very important have I to say

4 A glossy red-and-white banner that flows
As majestic as the wind across the terrain
So graceful in the sky is the manner it blows

7 The red maple leaf, and the color’s of St. George’s cross
Glimmer blissfully in the breeze
O’er Canada’s beautiful wooded land

10 From Niagra Falls to the barren Northern Frontier
From the Pacific coast to the furthest Islands of the east
The brilliant maple is something that all Canadians hold dear…EH!

I wrote this my freshman year

enjoy

“It Hypnotized my Chickens”
By: Bobby Murphy
Grandpa Viejo sat in his rocking chair on a regular Puerto Rican day. He always sat there. He didn’t say much, he just sat there, and stared into the sky. He had done a lot in his life, but not now. Now he sat there all the time, reminiscing. He sat there constantly, reminiscing.
On that same regular Puerto Rican day Grandpa Viejo spotted a small boy running up the hill towards the house. He recognized the boy as little Vicente, his grandson. Vicente was a small little boy of around seven years old, he was short, even for his age, and he had a very dark head of hair. As Vicente ran up the hill Grandpa Viejo could hear him calling his name. He seemed very excited to see his grandfather, and likewise Grandpa Viejo was delighted to see his favorite, and only grandson.
When little Vicente finally reached the top of the hill Grandpa Viejo was waiting for him. “Hola Grandpa Viejo,” he said. “Oooooooooh little Vicente, you are getting so big.” “Come give your grandfather a hug,” he heaved in a deep, worn out voice. Vicente rushed over to his grandfather, and gave him a hug. Vicente loved to see his grandfather, because every time that Vicente visited Grandpa Viejo he would be entertained by one of his many stories. Grandpa Viejo, though he didn’t talk much, was full of stories, many of which Vicente had heard at least twice, but there were others. Others Vicente had not yet heard. Today was no exception. As soon as Vicente reached the top of the hill, still huffing and puffing from the long run up he asked Grandpa Viejo to tell him a story. Grandpa Viejo responded with this, “Little Vicente you are going to wear your old Grandpa Viejo out. He took a sip of his rum, “But none the less I guess i will tell you a story,” he sighed. “ Hmmmmmmm what story will it be today, he thought.”I guess I could tell you the story of Puerto Ricos most famous myth, El Chupacabra.” Vicente flinched, but he wasn’t scared, but he thought he might be after the story. “Well do you want to hear the story or not?” he chuckled. “Of course, Grandpa Viejo, your stories are the best, he answered. “Whellllp, fetch me another glass of rum, and lets get started then.”
As Vicente ran into the house Grandpa Viejo laughed softly again, and said, “ Im sure you’ll enjoy this one Vicente, Im sure you’ll enjoy this one.” Grandpa Viejo was ready to tell the story that all started at the same house, on the same hill of El Rancho Viejo.
Vicente returned, and after taking a sip of his rum, Grandpa Viejo started his story.
Wellllllllllllllll 50 years ago my friend Hector, and I sat in this same spot throwing rocks into a bucket. Nothing ever happened in the in our lonely town, that was a suburb of San Juan, Puerto Rico. Nothing at all. It may seem like a great place, but when noting exciting ever happened, it got pretty dull. That was all soon to change though, that was all soon to change.
It had gotten dark, but Hector and I were still outside throwing rocks. We spent the early mornings feeding the cattle, milking the goats, and collecting the chicken eggs on each others farms. It was a form of mutualism. Once we were done with our farm work we would throw rocks into a bucket for the rest of the day for fun, and now at night Hector had one last chance to beat me in rock throwing. He fired one hard at the bucket, we heard it bounce of the rim of his bucket, and bounce into my bucket, he had lost.
“Ok, I lose,”he sighed.
“Yeah Im worn out,” “Gunnight” I broke out.
“Good Night, 5:30 tomorrow morning?”Hector asked.
“Yeah 5:30, see you then,” I answered.
I retired to my bedroom for a good nights sleep.
The next morning I woke up to a strange figure on the local newspapers front page. I noticed the scenery around the picture as the farm of my neighbor Jaime Jiminez, but the mysterious creature in the article, I couldn’t tell what it was. So I picked up the article to see what the mysterious creature was.
The article was long, real long. That was probably there was really no other local news to put in it.
As I read I found out that old Jaime claimed to have lost half of his flock of chickens, and about three or more of his goats to a monster he claimed was El Chupacabra. I didn’t know much about this “Chupacabra” but the paper cleared that up for me too. It said that in English Chupacabra translated to goat sucker. It also said that it was about 3-4 feet tall with fangs, and reptilian legs. Not only that, but it also had small beady eyes, and the ability to change colors. It also said that it smells like sulfur. It went on, and on, and on, but those were really the only things about it that really mattered.
Point being, I decided to set a tap to catch it, with the help of Hector, of course. I really don’t know why I decided to try and trap the legendary Chupacabra, its probably just because there was just nothing better to do. None the less we set the trap. Hector and I bought a large cage, and name it the Chupa-Cage, we put a stuffed goat in the cage, and named it Bob. We were probably the only men that would name a stuffed goat.
With the trap set we sat throwing rocks into buckets for the rest of the day, because it wasn’t like the monster would expose itself in daylight.
Night came, and Hector and I sat looking out of a window from which the cage was visible. Nothing happened until late at night, when both Hector and I were dozing off. There was a snap, and a rattling sound in the cage outside. I woke up Hector, who was snoring, and we ran outside.
Now at this time of year it was very very cold. At least for Puerto Rican weather. So you could imagine how eerie it felt outside in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans.
The first thing we noticed was an extremely large amount of chickens lined up in about four or five rows. All of them seemed to be in a trance. There eyes were blue, and they just stood there like they were waiting for something. “It hypnotized my chickens,” I said. Hector started to laugh, but i didn’t think that was very funny.
Meanwhile the so called Chupacabra tried,to fly out of its cage, but it would always hit its head, fall back down, and start to change colors. It was actually real funny, but Hector broke my thoughts of jumping chupacabras, by saying this, “We cant just leave it there, help me bring it in.”
The next morning I went out half asleep, and in a bathrobe, with my cup of coffee to get my newspaper. When I opened the door I was standing face to face with my neighbor Jaime. The first thing I did was close the door. I guess I thought he was an illusion, or that he would simply go away. I don’t know.
When I opened the door again I was greeted with a sarcastic “ Very funny,” from him. His face then got very serious as he said “ I want the monster dead.” After that he left.
I woke up Hector and told him that Jaime knew about the Chupacabra. “We’ve got to get rid of it,” he said mumbling in his sleep, and continued “ Puerto del sol, boat 8, tonight;” after that he fell back asleep.
I looked at a boat schedule that I found, and saw that boat 8 left for Chile, in South America. Well better them ten me I suppose.
That night Hector and I put a box with a cage, with El Chupacabra in it on boat 8, which turned out to be a cargo ship. We claimed the box had Mexican Jumping Beans in it, because El Chupacabra was still jumping up, and hitting itself on the head.
The boat went off, and we never saw El Chupacabra again, but I bet he(or it) had a muy grande headache after hitting its head so much on the cage.
By: Bobby Murphy