How the Desk Felt

My mother recently dug up this incredibly brief piece of writing that I did in school soon after turning 9 years old. To anyone who knows my habit of alphabetizing CDs or rearranging books or doing the dishes as if my life depended on not missing a spot, this will be particularly funny. I suppose we were assigned to write something from the perspective of an inanimate object. I give you "How My Desk Would Feel." Enjoy:

Hi, I’m John’s desk and I feel great. Everything’s in place and everything’s neat. I like desk’s [sic] like that, clean and neat. I’ve been a desk for 7 years and not once have I seen a neater desk than John’s. Every morning I don’t like when John puts books on me. When John gets back from lunch he usually kicks me or hits me a couple of times but I know he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t even know I’m alive.