Passive Voice/Transitive Verbs
Linking Verbs (S-LV-SC)
The warden threw question after question at me, but I just threw them right back. Though she was in complete control, I knew her scheme had a weakness: counter-questions. This made the warden very angry, and the reality of the situation was that she was never going to let me out. According to G, the plan was to not break out of prison--but to talk out.
G was the warden’s angel, but really he was merely a sheep in wolfs clothing. When I returned to the cell last week, G wanted me to know something important. There was a little secret no one in the prison knew--he was teaching the warden too. I once was lost; but now I am found. At least that is how it felt when I knew the warden was mortal. This new information changed everything, and as with new information comes a new game plan.
The warden and her panel of demons were all but pleased with how I was making a mockery of our meeting, but I was ready to reveal the secret weapon. I asked her, “Warden, do you know what a linking verb is?” As she looked to her colleagues, I knew G left out this major element of writing while tutoring the her. “I...I...do not know Mr. Stew.” The warden was found.
I said, “Warden, how could you not know such a basic part of writing when my cell mate G was teaching you without the prisons knowledge? Is this not a prison of the mind?” As she began to blush, the warden could not believe her darkest secret had been revealed. I had to hit her with a final knockout punch, “You see warden, how can you run a prison--that is filled with those who are guilty of illiteracy--when you are just as guilty as everyone of them?” I said. “If you are just like me why am I in this jumpsuit, and you’re in a suit?” She became angry.
The panel could not believe their ears. As the warden began to be belittled with questions, I was informed by the prison guard to return to my cell. G met me at the doorway with a giant bear hug, but nothing was yet set in stone. The warden, cold and broken, carried a brown box of office items out of the prison. When she passed my cell, I smiled at her with a silent reminder--I won.
There is one lesson we can all take from my time inside this prison, don’t take someone like G for granted. The lesson seems simple, but without experiencing it first hand you will never know its true impact on reality. When I exited the prison, I knew I was no longer partially whole--I was finally complete. Life is good.