I+shall+call+him+Squishy,+and+he+shall+be+mine.+And+he+shall+be+my+Squishy

I was walking to my house and I found a strange object on the ground. It was squishy and orange. I like the squeaky sound it makes when I squeeze it. I wonder who left it behind or maybe dropped it on accident. Maybe a young child was the owner and forgot about it. Perhaps I will donate it but I like it so much that I would like to keep it. I hold the orange squishy item in my hand and stick it in my black backpack.

As I was walking back to class, people kept giving me these strange looks. Some of the girls pointed and laughed. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?!? Why was everyone laughing at me? Then I realized it was my squishy. I didn't know the squishing was making so much noise. Every time I took a step a little noise came out. I told the class it was just a toy not

that there was anything wrong with me. Not a soul believed me, considering my flatulence in elementary school. Everyone sat at least five seats away from me, fearing the worst. Some people covered their mouths and noses with their shirt sleeves, others with the collars of their shirts. I could not understand why they were doing this. However it only took a moment for me to realize the there was this strange odor emitting from the squishy. What the h I thought in disbelief. How could such a cute toy have such a foul odor. But here lies the problem. No one else knew that I had the squishy. They all thought the terrible odor was coming from me. How embarrassing. I even showered this morning.