Well, honestly I was never good at any compositions.

I sucked in primary school despite the fact that my currently expansive vocabulary really hasn't changed much.

Well, of course I'm saying I don't suck now but thats for you to judge.

Hmmmm no one's going to give me a compo...

But. I still get them for chinese.

Ahahaha I shall write something based on the chinese one.

And yes, the plot is going to be radically different from what I actually wrote, because I lack the necessary vocabulary in chinese.

Scenario(rough translation): You are walking in a flea market. There are tonnes and tonnes of people around. There are many shops, it is very noisy, it is buzzing with people and noise. Suddenly you hear a large commotion behind you, you turn around and....


Okay.

I shall begin:

Well, it was a Sunday, days of note tend to be Sundays, no that isn't backed by any scientific research that I know of, its just an assumption that my mind makes. I'm not saying that I'm wrong. Anyway, so there I was, in a flea market of all places. A disgusting assortment of basement priced items assaulted my senses. Shirts of every colour combination ever conceived! Bags with family guy cartoon figures on them! Elmo and T-Pain on the same pencil case! All for below $10 dollars!

Anyway, so there I was, walking, rather uncomfortably, through the throngs of people. Honestly, I had been there too long, and I jammed my palm over my mouth trying to stifle a yawn as my girlfriend pulled me over to gush over a cool plastic bracelet for the 176589th time. Yes, my girlfriend, did you seriously believe I went there of my own accord? Really, if it was up to me I'd be sitting at home crunching Doritos, but no, she wanted to come. Messy, yes, overly random, maybe, but uncommitted? Me? Never.

Unbelievably committed as I am, after submitting to her urgings, I was starting to regret my decision. I mean we had been there for hours, and she showed no sign of tiring. Me on the other hand? I had seen enough Ben 10 T-shirts to last me a lifetime in the first ten minutes. Naturally, I was sick and tired of the whole experience. It couldn't really get any worse.

Well, famous last words really. Just as I thought those cursed words I heard a loud shout from behind me. Apparently a matronly lady old enough to be my mother had just gotten her disturbingly pink handbag snatched by a thin wiry lad of maybe 20 who was streaking our way.

When I was a kid I always wished this sort of stuff would happen. And my dreams were filled with that fateful moment when I would rugby tackle the thief and gloriously straddle him as he struggled to get free, and perhaps strike a pose as the police came to take him away. I always got a medal at the end of that. Why? I guess as some form of reward. As if the glory wasn't enough. A few years on...its a different story now, dammit I mean who in the world likes to run anyway? I've given up on recognition, or I should say, recognition has given up on me, doesn't matter what I do, I don't get any credit. So I figured, if one day something like this happens, just disappear into the crowd, and let someone else take the thief out, and maybe take a knife to the gut in the process.

I would have done that, except for the fact that I felt an intense and persistent jabbing at my ribs. My plan would've worked perfectly but for one thing. Girlfriend.
Uh oh, I couldn't just stand here, not with her by my side. I looked at her questioning eyes, and I knew there wasn't going to be any talking my out of this, I would never hear the end of it.

So I did it. Yep, I chased after that damn bloody thief. He was wearing a nondescript outfit and I would have soon lost sight of him if not for the fact that the handbag he had decided to steal was so bloody pink. The chances of him getting away was about zero, I was soon joined by other begrudging males eager to please the girl of their dreams by seizing the moment.

My old long distance training put me in good stead, I hate running, doesn't mean I can't, I used to be really fast back in school, second only to an irritating prick named Jack, who's mission in life is apparently to beat me in everything. Anyway, soon the other pursuers fell away as the wiry young lad ran for his freedom, after all he wasn't going to just end up in prison like that. Well the rest fell away, except to my horror another pursuer, named Jack.

Yep he just showed up at that moment. I would have given up at that point, but to let him catch the thief while I lay panting on the ground behind? Never. Anyway, he was gaining on the thief and was just about to bring him down when. When, well I tripped.
It wouldn't have had any importance on the matter except bringing me added humiliation except for the fact that the trip somehow, I don't know how but just somehow made me fly forwards fast enough that I slammed into the poor kid's legs, bringing him down before Jack.

A sense of triumph filled me, I had finally beaten ultra-nemesis, I had finally won and done what I had been trying to do all my adolescent life, the sense of triumph filled me until my face hit the ground and the damned thief fell on top of me.

Five minutes later the police arrived to find Jack straddling the dazed thief, holding the pink handbag, with a dazed me lying on the floor nearby.

No one believes me when I said I caught the thief. And I knew she didn't believe me either from that sardonic smile on her face. Never mind, Jack can go and keep his shiny gold medal for bravery, as well as all his 1st place trophies. I'm satisfied with 2nd, after all, I still beat him this time, and I did beat him to her.

The End.