Island Summer
by Polina Akulova | Score: 400
''Cockle-doodle-doo!'' screamed Sir Cluck.
I jump in up in bed and slam my head against I want to strangle that rooster.
He ''cockle-doodles'' whenever he fancies to, whether it be 3 in the afternoon, or 1 in the morning.
I glance at the rusty alarm clock
The next thing that hits me is the cold. Of course, it's always cool in the mornings here, but not to the point of
I have half a mind to chuck