Emma Dunne Exercises

Dialog Exercise

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey, Are you listening to me? Can't you feel me tap you?" Billy asks, jumping up and down in his seat. "Hellooooooo? Anybody home?"

Mumbled grunts escape the old man's mouth, scowling at the little boy.

"I can't understand you!" the child shouts. "What are you saying? Hey! Wanna see me be like an airplane? That'd be fun!"

"Ehhhh, shut up, would'ya?"

Billy wipes his face. "Eeeeeewwww! Why'd ya do that for? It's  mean to spit on people, ya know." Curiosity shines in the boy's eyes. "Hey? What's with your teeth? Wait, my dad told me you fight bulls. Did ya get them knocked out? Hey! Guess what? I lost a tooth too, do you wanna see? Huh? Do ya, do ya do ya?"

"Well, I got a secret for you, partner," The former cowhand responds, every word sounding like an indistinct mumble.

"Oooo a secret?" Billy asks, leaning into his seat. "I love secrets. Well, except the last one someone told me, it was my dad. He said my mom was a crackhead bitch with no life. I dunno what that means but--"

"Do you wanna hear it or not?"

"Okay, okay, tell me!"

"After my wife died," the cowboy says, grinning so wide, his gums were exposed. "I wouldn't stop yapping and yapping. I talked till the cows came home. Wanna know what happened, young man?"

   "What happened, what happened?" Billy shouts the question, bouncing up and down in his seat. Every three seconds, he inches closer to the toothless cowboy, hands shaking with anticipation.

    "They ripped my teeth out!" The old man jumps up from his seat and opens his mouth, grinning at the little boy.

    An ear-splitting screech erupts from Billy, running away from the cowboy as fast as his little, energy drink filled body can take him.

 Another voice comes from behind the old man.   "C'mon, dad, that's not nice to say for a kid."

   The old man rolls his eyes at the man behind him. "Next time you bring your kid," he warns, shoving an index finger in his son's gut. "Make sure he doesn't drink any of them energy drinks."

Description Exercise

Five feet, nine inches. To the average person, this is not very tall. Compared to buildings, trees, or basketball players, five foot nine is actually quite short. To the tiny three-year old hiding behind her mother's' leg, the height of this man might as well be a skyscraper. Open house occurs twice a semester, and with the work hours of being a doctor taking up this mother's day, she has to take her toddler with her. The three year old peeks her head out at the strange man in front of her mother. His voice booms like claps of thunder, sounding like the giant in nursery rhymes. Cowboy boots stomp around the classroom, making the three-year old clutch onto her mother tighter than ever before. Her eyes grow wide at the size of the teacher's hands compared to her small, pudgy ones. Emotion is not something toddlers pick up, so she can not realize although this man is big and has a voice that booms in her ears like a symphony of drums, he is smiling. A tremendous, deep-voiced, loud stepped, dark clothes wearing, stranger is the only thing in the toddler's line of vision. The sight of this strange, new, individual makes her cry, wails louder than fire alarms going off.