注意：1.周记的开头已经为你写好。
2. 词数不少于80。
Last Monday，
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A pleasant surprise
For a long time, I had been looking for a piano of my own to practise on. There was a piano shop on the street along which I walked every day to school. Whenever I passed the shop, I would stop, looking at the beautiful piano standing in the comer of the shop window. How I had been dreaming, day and night to possess a piano like that!
Unfortunately, my father was just a clerk. Times were tough during the Depression, and there were five mouths to feed, besides buying coal and wood for the stove. In order to save money, even on cold winter days, my father would walk the seven miles every day to get to work. No he could never afford to buy me an expensive piano. Though he knew I wanted to play that piano so much» buying it was an extravagance (奢侈品) well beyond our family’s income.
One day after school, I went as usual to the shop window to look at the piano. However, to my surprise and disappointment, the piano had gone. I should not have been surprised as others had the right to buy it, if they could afford to. Tears filled my eyes when I thought of not being able to sec that piano any more.
Disappointed, helpless and sad, I wandered aimlessly up and down the street. After about an hour. I returned home. I had just entered into our house, when I heard my mother calling me. I brushed away my tears and followed the sound of her voice into the dining-room.
Paragraph 1:I could not believe my eyes.
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As soon as my father appeared, I hugged him tightly.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Everyone likes the beautiful Cinderella, but I like the ugly stepsister. The sidewalk was filled with shoppers as my mother and I hurried to the department store. I raised my neck for a look at the holiday window display, but at the age of six I was too small to see around the grown-ups with their winter coats and packages. When at last we reached the store, I stood with my eyes widened. “Look, Mother,” I shouted, pressing my hands against the glass, “Cinderella.” Before my eyes was the most beautiful doll I had ever seen! She wore a fairy princess suit made of shining red silk. I knew if I lifted her skirt I would find her crystal(水晶) shoes. The tiny tiara (冠状头饰) fastened to her silky golden hair shone.
“If only she were mine,” I dreamed. “We’d have tea parties, share secrets and dance with a handsome prince.” But to my disappointment, my mother guided me away from the window, explaining that she and my father could not afford such an expensive doll. “But there will be a very special gift under the tree for you on Christmas morning, Madge,” she said. “I promise.” Later that week I leaned against Mother’s sewing machine, watching the needle flash up and down. “Bet you don’t know what this is!” she joked, holding up the cloth for me to see. “My Christmas doll!” I yelled. It was still in the early stages but I could make out the head, neck and body. “So much to my surprise!” Mother laughed as I danced around the room, already pretending Cinderella and I were at the ball. It wouldn’t be long now.
My excitement grew with each passing day. Mother continued to work on the doll, and whenever I walked into the room she would hide it under a pillow. I could tell by her smile she was pleased with her progress. On Christmas morning I jumped out of bed, ran down the hall and quickly arrived at the living room where the Christmas tree was placed.
注意：1.续写的词数应为150左右；2.请按下列格式作答。
There, underneath the tree, was a beautifully packed gift box.
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But I could see Mother watching me, waiting for my response.
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I handed the card from my school's help-wanted board to the man behind the counter of Mort's Deli （熟食店). Even before I opened my mouth, he was shaking his head.
It was September 1957, and my family had just arrived in California. My father only got work two or three days a week. Our poor savings were gone, and as the eldest boy of the family, I was the only one able to help.
''Let me work the rest of the week, and if you don’t like the way I do the job, don't pay me,'' I said. The tall man stared at me, and then nodded, ''I'm Mort Robin. What's your name?''
At Mort's, I worked very hard. Near the end of the day he called me up to him. ''How much did that card at school say this job paid?'' he asked. ''One dollar an hour,'' I whispered. Actually I was willing to take less.
''That's not enough for someone who works as hard as you,'' Mort said. ''You start at 1.25.'' Over the next few weeks, I learned a lot about Mort. A few years older than my dad, he was from Chicago and had a daughter at my age. When things were slow, he often shared stories from his army days. Our store was closed on Sundays, so every Saturday evening Mort urged me to take home the leftover soup. It was a meal in itself, a treat for my struggling family.
One Saturday after work, I was about to step in my house when I saw a large bald man in my father's chair. He was shouting at my father. I quietly walked into the kitchen and listened through the door. The man wanted to take our car. I had been in Los Angeles just long enough to understand how essential a car was. Dad offered to make the three payments that were due, but the man demanded the entire sum - $325, or the car.
I slipped out of the door, thinking: Who might have $325? Who would even consider lending me so much money?
Paragraph 1
The only person I could think of was Mort.
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Paragraph 2
I calmly handed the man the money.
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A young and successful manager was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out (窜出) from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick hit violently into the Jags side door! He stepped on the brakes and backed his Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown.
The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, “What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That’s a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?”
The young boy was apologetic. “Please, mister... please, I’m sorry but I didn’t know what else to do,” he explained. “I threw the brick because no one else would stop…” With tears rolling down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. “It’s my brother,” he said. “He rolled off the sidewalk and fell out of his wheelchair and I can’t lift him up.” Now sobbing, the boy asked the astonished manager, “Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He’s hurt and he’s too heavy for me.”
Moved beyond words, the driver cooled his anger.
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The driver watched the boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.
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