The Chinese Dinner

by Lily Windom-Price

As  I walked in the door I could smell the that fish, and I could tell it was going be different. Not American. First of all there was no turkey, roast, or ham. Amy, a little Chinese girl, was emberesed

so I asked her a few questions. She didn't feel like talking, sadley. her mom asked me to stay for dinner, so I did. The're manners were, I can't even begin to describe them. They were horendous, reaching over the table to get food, chopsticks instead of forks, and belching after dinner to show their appriciation.

So at least i know never to go to a chinese dinner ever again.