THE JULY E-ZINE - Making the world more musical
RIO RULES THE WORLD!
MAKING OF THE RIO THEME SONG -
RIO RULES THE WORLD
Special Thanks to Mary Jean Uszy our composer and song writing teacher, Jessica our videographer, Emily our photographer, and Kim Firmston who held the MP3 player without getting injured.
RIO Fictional Book Reviews by Lelainna, Mary, Emily, and Kim
The Ordinary Life of a Boring Person - by I. M. Dull
- I never knew you could do THAT with paperclips! - Office workers of Canada
- . . . - Mutes Anonymous
- This book is a blasphemous work of heathenry and should not have been published - Amish Association of heathen studies
- Now I know what to do with my own boring life! - Joe
Human Chemistry (Not for the faint of heart) - by D. Rackula
- Specifically recommended for vampires - Blood book reviews
- Some very enticing material. . . if you know what I mean - Pedophiles underground
- This book is for humans - not aliens! - Nonhumans Anonymous
- I've always wanted to know what chemicals to mix humans with! - Mad Bombers Monthly
The BIG Book of Bacon! - by Dr. Meaty Pig
- "Bacon is always the most healthy fruit", I knew it! - Stupid Society of Sand
- Should be called big belly builder! - Beer Belly Bros.
- Yum! - Joe
- This book is completely insesitive! - Porky Pig
- A book set to kill the world! - Vegan Velociraptors
The Book of Silence - by Marcel Marceau
- -.- A. Sleep
- THIS BOOK ROCKS!!!!!!!! - Ozzy Ozbourne
- Shhhh! - the Alien Math Teacher's Society
- Clearly written by a golem - Nerds Unite
- Approved of by the Librarian's Secret Society
- I never knew you could do THAT with paperclips! - Office workers of Canada
- . . . - Mutes Anonymous
- This book is a blasphemous work of heathenry and should not have been published - Amish Association of heathen studies
- Now I know what to do with my own boring life! - Joe
Human Chemistry (Not for the faint of heart) - by D. Rackula
- Specifically recommended for vampires - Blood book reviews
- Some very enticing material. . . if you know what I mean - Pedophiles underground
- This book is for humans - not aliens! - Nonhumans Anonymous
- I've always wanted to know what chemicals to mix humans with! - Mad Bombers Monthly
The BIG Book of Bacon! - by Dr. Meaty Pig
- "Bacon is always the most healthy fruit", I knew it! - Stupid Society of Sand
- Should be called big belly builder! - Beer Belly Bros.
- Yum! - Joe
- This book is completely insesitive! - Porky Pig
- A book set to kill the world! - Vegan Velociraptors
The Book of Silence - by Marcel Marceau
- -.- A. Sleep
- THIS BOOK ROCKS!!!!!!!! - Ozzy Ozbourne
- Shhhh! - the Alien Math Teacher's Society
- Clearly written by a golem - Nerds Unite
- Approved of by the Librarian's Secret Society
Dreamer
By Lelainna Dahl
You’ve caught a dreamer. Lost from reality. Out of touch with the world. You’ll always catch her in the clouds. You’ll never have a conversation with her that doesn’t involve monsters and fantasy. Her nightmares will be numerous and she’ll ask you to hold her. You’ll always catch her staring into the distance, plotting storylines in her head. Hold on tight to her because she’s the best you’ll find.
Valhalla Brand Breakfast Cereals
by Emily Firmston
Valhalla Humour by Emily Firmston
Q: What code do Viking Spies use?
A: Norse Code!
A: Norse Code!
Memories
By Oksana Ruhe-Hovdebo
I’m a senior now, been through a lot. I remember when I was just a sapling, carefully rooted to the ground, bound to the earth, feeling proud standing there protecting that little house. Shading its tiny windows with my stubby branches. Giving it all my love. For it gave me a place to break free from my sprout. A place to live and grow strong. A place to take root and call home until death. Fairy tales don’t last forever, so there came a time when the house grew clod and the radiant, endless flow of colours faded to grey. The laughter of children swinging on my young sturdy branches tapered off and eventually the starter of my life, the home of my loved, was wisped away by the same winds that formed my trunk, blew the crispy leaves off
my twirly branches and brought my seed to the hands that gave birth to me.
Soon time brought my limbs to flower and the surrounding grass to turn green again. My roots hardened and my trunk grew stout and strong along with my unbreakable branches that stretched out from my core with pure hope. Hoe that I might give shade to more people in my life, please others who needed help or wanted someone to listen to their troubles and take in their sobs.
I remember the sudden thud that crusaded over the hill tops echoing through my woody base like an axe. Then came another, and soon there were sounds of men parading through the valley, all wearing matching camouflage suits and marching in identical formation, columns and rows. They were mostly young and probably had families and loved ones, like I used to, but they were taken away to join the war. As their silhouettes marched by and slowly disappeared I wondered how many proud fighters would come out alive.
They were days into battle when a young man staggered out of the battle field and tumbled into my warm grasp. I shaded
the injured soldier and took him out of the icy hands of the wind with my now strong lengthy arms. He rested his tired head against my welcoming bark. His quivering fingers reaching into his small battered pocket and slowly retrieved a single bent up photo. Two little girls stood happily hand in hand with a beautiful lady and the soldier all smiling in a grassy meadow. Protecting this father from all winds, rain, sun, and darkness reminded me of when I was just a sapling protecting that little house. But just like the house, I can help to only a point, so he soon slipped peacefully away and became cold. Fellow soldiers carried his empty shell away.
As the days droned on I heard that the war had ended. We had won and the tired champions marched back out of the battlefield. I was happy that at least the young father sacrificed his life for a purpose. But my heart still ached with sorrow and cried out to the wind that was carrying this icy conflict away to another place. I aged, and my childhood was just a faint memory. My roots slightly stiffened but I was still spry and full of energy. A storm was cast in the distance and gave me no fright when a flash of yellow lightning struck. It was miles away but when that smoky smell crawled through my splingery wood I knew something was wrong. Over the hill tops slithered a spark of red, yellow, and orange light. Fire crept around
the valley ever so slowly then pounced down shrieking its words of pain. Its might flames danced around me while its libs were sparking the measly shrubs and bushes alight with fire, awakening their sizzling souls as they joined the song of fright. Thankfully with the fire also came the rain. It started pounding against the blaze to the rhythm of defeat. Soon the smoky fire was gon and I was not to worry.
Now I am old. My strong, firm bark is now gnarled, crusty and dry. New saplings have sptrouted to take my place in this world. I know I will not flower this spring, but I’ve done my job. I’ve snet joy and shade to farmers and gave a resting place for a father. I’ve survived some amazing things that none others have. At least I know that my trunk will rot away to soften the dirt of new heroes, new trees on the road to make others happy just like that little, old house did for me. So as I leave my shell, I remember all the good memories, all the things I did for others and what so many others have done for me. I’m happy because I know lots of other sould will experience the triumphs and wonders of a life lived too.
my twirly branches and brought my seed to the hands that gave birth to me.
Soon time brought my limbs to flower and the surrounding grass to turn green again. My roots hardened and my trunk grew stout and strong along with my unbreakable branches that stretched out from my core with pure hope. Hoe that I might give shade to more people in my life, please others who needed help or wanted someone to listen to their troubles and take in their sobs.
I remember the sudden thud that crusaded over the hill tops echoing through my woody base like an axe. Then came another, and soon there were sounds of men parading through the valley, all wearing matching camouflage suits and marching in identical formation, columns and rows. They were mostly young and probably had families and loved ones, like I used to, but they were taken away to join the war. As their silhouettes marched by and slowly disappeared I wondered how many proud fighters would come out alive.
They were days into battle when a young man staggered out of the battle field and tumbled into my warm grasp. I shaded
the injured soldier and took him out of the icy hands of the wind with my now strong lengthy arms. He rested his tired head against my welcoming bark. His quivering fingers reaching into his small battered pocket and slowly retrieved a single bent up photo. Two little girls stood happily hand in hand with a beautiful lady and the soldier all smiling in a grassy meadow. Protecting this father from all winds, rain, sun, and darkness reminded me of when I was just a sapling protecting that little house. But just like the house, I can help to only a point, so he soon slipped peacefully away and became cold. Fellow soldiers carried his empty shell away.
As the days droned on I heard that the war had ended. We had won and the tired champions marched back out of the battlefield. I was happy that at least the young father sacrificed his life for a purpose. But my heart still ached with sorrow and cried out to the wind that was carrying this icy conflict away to another place. I aged, and my childhood was just a faint memory. My roots slightly stiffened but I was still spry and full of energy. A storm was cast in the distance and gave me no fright when a flash of yellow lightning struck. It was miles away but when that smoky smell crawled through my splingery wood I knew something was wrong. Over the hill tops slithered a spark of red, yellow, and orange light. Fire crept around
the valley ever so slowly then pounced down shrieking its words of pain. Its might flames danced around me while its libs were sparking the measly shrubs and bushes alight with fire, awakening their sizzling souls as they joined the song of fright. Thankfully with the fire also came the rain. It started pounding against the blaze to the rhythm of defeat. Soon the smoky fire was gon and I was not to worry.
Now I am old. My strong, firm bark is now gnarled, crusty and dry. New saplings have sptrouted to take my place in this world. I know I will not flower this spring, but I’ve done my job. I’ve snet joy and shade to farmers and gave a resting place for a father. I’ve survived some amazing things that none others have. At least I know that my trunk will rot away to soften the dirt of new heroes, new trees on the road to make others happy just like that little, old house did for me. So as I leave my shell, I remember all the good memories, all the things I did for others and what so many others have done for me. I’m happy because I know lots of other sould will experience the triumphs and wonders of a life lived too.