Personal Narrative: Chucky Cheese
As a small child, parents always teach their children to never wander away from the parent, but as children grow up their curiosity does too. Almost always it takes a traumatic event, or horrifying experience to change the child’s mind for the next time they think about wandering off. This is the perfect summary to the event that took place in Chucky Cheese when I was 5 years old. I was attending a birthday party, a very big birthday party; my entire kindergarten class was there on a Saturday so of course Chucky Cheese isn’t exactly empty. Along with the dozens of kids, there were also dozens of parents running around chasing their children while others are chit chatting sipping on some soda and not paying any attention to their children at all. My parents got caught up in conversation with another parent and I took the opportunity to explore Chucky Cheese by myself. I had managed to stray away
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Passing the ticket counter I see a tall, skinny man with brown hair that looks just like my dad. I run up, grab the man’s leg and hold on for dear life.
After a few minutes I look up to see a face that is not my dad’s face at all. The man I see looks like Bozo the clown, he has great big thick framed glasses on and very little hair on the top of his head, and a ginormous smile on his face, and he may as well have had a red nose. The fear that ran though my body at that point was unfathomable. I scream, let go of the man’s leg and begin to cry. I may never find my parents.
As the man is trying to console me, I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I turn around and it was like an angel had come down from the sky, it was my mother. I ran to her so fast and grabbed her so tight and began to tremble in fear. The kind man approached us and told me not to cry because he thought I was his own daughter grabbing his leg, and that he wasn’t
Passing the ticket counter I see a tall, skinny man with brown hair that looks just like my dad. I run up, grab the man’s leg and hold on for dear life.
After a few minutes I look up to see a face that is not my dad’s face at all. The man I see looks like Bozo the clown, he has great big thick framed glasses on and very little hair on the top of his head, and a ginormous smile on his face, and he may as well have had a red nose. The fear that ran though my body at that point was unfathomable. I scream, let go of the man’s leg and begin to cry. I may never find my parents.
As the man is trying to console me, I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I turn around and it was like an angel had come down from the sky, it was my mother. I ran to her so fast and grabbed her so tight and began to tremble in fear. The kind man approached us and told me not to cry because he thought I was his own daughter grabbing his leg, and that he wasn’t