A wave of angry suddenly gripped me paralyzing my whole body.  I peered through the window of the upscale hotel ballroom sweat dripping from my fore head as if someone had just poured water over me I could not believe my eyes as I continue looking from the seventh floor of the ball room, there in the middle of the square my two best friends Johnny and Kimberley was pouring what appeared to be gold paint all over my recently purchase 600 red Honda Motor Cycle.  Too make matters worse ‘Hot Shot’ as I called it was just given to me by my father on my sixteen birth-days.

I know that this was some expensive motor cycle; I also know that my father was saving for this moment for quite some time.   I had worked just as hard as my father had saved his money, keeping up my grades and finally graduating with honors, so I was not surprise when he tore of the packages and revealed ‘hotshot’ in shinning red.  Red is my favorite color, and just the thought of the mixture of gold and red sent shudders to my bones.   I could just slap the silly grins off their faces, and paint their nicely dress suites with gold.   To them it may seem like another of their practical jokes, but I was whopping mad.   With heated passions of anger, I forgot that I was some distance away and was just as fully and expensively dress for our class final night together.

Furious, I darted down the stair way three steps at a time, not even a thought of the use of the elevator in mind.  I was angry, disappointed and in disbelief.  My friends had the nerve to ruin the best gift I ever had, and they will pay the uttermost price.  At the top of the fourth stay-way, I slipped and barely caught myself from falling.  Breathless and sweaty I continue much faster than I had started no doubt I had to stop them, and do so immediately. In the middle of the square, Johnny and Kimberley could not be found. Frantically looking around I saw two men walking away.  They were not a part of the class of 2008.  The Honda Motor cycle was not so red after all.  I quickly realized that the brown Motor cycle, freshly ruined with gold paint did not at all belong to me.