Here's some stories I've writen for English 11H, or Creative Writing/Journalism 12.
(Please note: McDonald's is, in no way, tied to these stories. They are completly fictional - right down to the characters - and any resembelance is completly coincidental)

The Trencher Story

----------Oh my god! There was a man walking through the door. She felt her heart start beating wildly. He was a trencher. And he had some trencher friends. Crap. Five other men walked through the door behind the first. Each one was dressed in black some wild eye makeup and heavy chains; all with trench coats. One had a backpack; another a cane. She looked around for help Darren was across the lobby... that was a small comfort. Lysa was in back swearing at Howie as usual... she wouldn't be much help anyway - she was too damn prissy. Mitch was downstairs, but would he have time to make it back up if there was a problem? Why was she so scared? She had no reason to believe they would hurt her.. Yet here she was, worrying 'if this' and 'if that'. She told herself to stop being so silly.

---------- Thud. Thud. Thud. Their dark army boots hit the linoleum hard. What was that guy carrying? God damn it! They were gonna hurt her. She was certain of this. Like the time at her school when the trencher burned that girl. She had heard a lot of stories about the horrible things trenchers do: their 'initiations', gang fights animal killing... of course, she had never witnessed any of this but that was beside the point. Conrad had told her about the time he had caught some trenchers in the bathroom dismembering a cat and he never told her anything but the truth...

---------- The men stopped to talk to a few girls sitting a few meters from the counter. Could she maybe take her break, and let someone else deal with these guys? No, she had just got there and everyone else was busy... What was she talking about? She was a big girl she could handle it All she'd have to do was treat them like anyone else, and if they started in on her she could run around behind the various machines lined up in the back. Maybe by then Darren would finish trying to look all big out front and come save her... What? Treat them like humans? What was she thinking? These were Satan-worshipping, baby-killing freaks of nature!

---------- The men finished talking to their friends and were on their way again. OK she was going to die. That was that. She tried to console herself with happy thoughts of meeting her favourite rapper and all-around hero Tupac in heaven when they reached the till. "Excuse me? Miss....um... Karen?" one of them spoke, reading her nametag. She quickly looked up, and speaking loudly so Byron wouldn't forget she was there, said, "Welcome to McDonald's! How may I help you?"... Random thoughts were running through her head. One of them was going to pull a gun, or a knife... Maybe order a dog burger with extra blood... Brainwash her into becoming one of them... Who knows what these guys are capable of?

---------- The trencher spoke again. "Um... yeah.. Could we please get..," he pulled the object out from behind his back, "..a refill?.. oh, cheeseburgers are cheap today, right? So could I please get three cheeseburgers, and a large fry?"

---------- Karen let out a sigh of relief. They weren't going to kill him. They just wanted to eat! "That'll be three ninety one, please sir! Will that be for here or to go?" These guys were completely fine! What was she worrying about? The trencher looked at his friends. "Um... here..," he handed her a five dollar bill "You can keep the change."

---------- Here she was worrying about these trenchers KILLING her, when they were GIVING her money! What was her problem? "Yo Karen!" Conrad yelled at her. "Those trenchers giving you a hard time?? Damn trenchers always causing problems..." Karen made a mental note to lecture Conrad on his manners.

The End

The Junkie Story

----------The door swung open with a squeak. She gazed into the bright bathroom... all the stalls were empty. She quickly scooted into the door, and fumbled with the lock in her haste. After she sat down on the toilet seat, she rolled up her mud-caked sleeve. Her thin arm was covered with dark bruises and small scabs. She opened her purse, pulled a dirty syringe, and a small vial. Jamming the needle into the rubber top, she sucked some of the liquid into the glass, and set the syringe down on top of the toilet paper dispenser. She tied a piece of cloth around her arm above her elbow, and found a vien. The thin metal slid slowly into her skin, and a look of bliss came across her gaunt face.

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----------"Someone! Please! Help!" a hefty woman shouted. "In the bathroom! Please!". Conrad jumped over the counter, knocking over a tray in the process, and sprinted towards the bathroom, with the woman, and his co-worker Darren right behind him. He slammed the door open, and the woman pointed from behind him, towards the handicap stall. A frail arm protruded from beneath the door. He dashes across the tile floor, while Darren ushered the woman outside. Conrad reached under the door, and unlocked it, then swung it open as far as it would go without hitting the girl.

----------She lay in a crumpled heap around the toilet, with her face facing towards the heavens, her eyes glazed, and mouth hanging slightly open. Darren was now at Conrad's side, staring, unsure of what to do. "First things first." muttered Conrad, reaching for the girl's neck to feel for a pulse. Suddenly he felt something stab into the tip of his finger. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, and grabbed the hard object. "A fucking syringe! It stabbed me!". Darren just stood there, frozen and useless. Conrad tossed the syringe aside, and placed his fingers on the girl's neck.. no pulse. Her skin was a little too cold, a little too clammy. He snatched his hand back, and contemplated his next move, feeling an unexplainable urge to help this girl. It seemed like hours has passes... had anyone called 9-1-1? As if in response to his thoughts, the door slammed open, and in burst 4 paramedics, and the fat lady, complete with stretcher, and various bags. One ushered Darren and the lady back into the hall, another pulled Conrad aside. "What happened?" he asked in a soothing voice, with one hand on Conrad's shoulder. Conrad explained the events in a rush, and showed the attendant his poked finger.

----------While the man cleaned his cut out, Conrad watched the other two attendants attempt to resessutate the girl with electric paddles. Finally, on the third attempt, they got a small, but significant, heartbeat. They loaded the girl onto the stretcher, and carefully wheeled her out. The attendant cleaning Conrad's hand bandaged it, then asked if there was somewhere private where they could talk. Conrad led him towards the back of the restaurant, while police officers moved into the bathroom. They paused to watch the screaming ambulance leave, then continued down the back stairs to the manager's office, below the main kitchen. They sat down in the swivel chairs, and the paramedic spoke.

----------"Well, sir, I am sure this has been very strenuous for you, and I'm sure you are anxious to get home and relax, but I think there is something you should know. That woman, Candy, was a drug user, well-known by our police force. She is a chronic user, and today she overdosed - again. But, um, well, you got stabbed byher needle... there is a chance you could have contracted her HIV virus."

This is hopefully going to end up as a novel!