The 8-Ball Essay, Research Paper
One of the worst rumors ever created is that an 8-ball has to be shaken in order to reveal an
answer. Too many times I have had friends walk into my room, shake the 8-ball, and flip it for an
answer. Then when they see that the water is all bubbly and the answer cannot be seen, what do
they do?…they shake it some more! I have found myself shouting at my friends over and over
again, ?No! Don?t shake the 8-ball! For the love of God, just put it down!?
Well, over the past few years, with all of the shaking, my 8-ball threw in the towel. The
cube inside could no longer provide an answer. I went through an 8-ball withdrawal. I spent that
whole summer answering yes or no questions with the witty comments that were once provided by
the 8-ball. However, I did not remember many of the answers that it gave, so everyone either got
an answer of ?all signs point to yes? or ?ask again later.? I realized I could not complete my dream
of being a human 8-ball unless I had all of the answers. The only option left was to get to the
center of the 8-ball and retrieve the cube with the answers. I was going to have to murder the
8-ball.
Have you ever tried to strike through the clear, plastic center of the 8-ball? It?s like a brick
wall! My first attempt to reveal the 8-ball?s answers was to take a hammer and pound through the
center. I thought the hammer would provide plenty of power to shatter through the 8-ball?s shield.
Oh boy, did I have another thing coming. After minutes of slamming away with the hammer, I
caught my breath and decided to try the other end of the hammer. I thought maybe piercing
through would be the key to get to the center. Once again, I started beating away on the 8-ball. I
was hovering over my kitchen sink, holding the hammer in my left hand, and the 8-ball in my
right. My eyes glowed with determination as I started slowly cracking my way through the plastic.
A smile was brought on to my face as I saw the blue ink starting to leak out. The 8-ball was
starting to give in, and it?s blood was oozing out of its cracks. My sink started to fill with blue. I
stopped for a moment to wash out the sink, and that?s when I realized the ink was staining the
sink. The 8-ball had defeated me again! In a fury, I stormed out of my house, with 8-ball in hand,
and threw it into my backyard. I spent 20 minutes scrubbing the sink just to get out the spots of
the blue that were left by my 8-ball. After the scrubbing was complete, my smile turned evil, and I
returned to my backyard for another confrontation with the 8-ball. The 8-ball and I decided to take
this fight outside.
My mind had trailed off, and I had become an animal. No longer was I just trying to crack
open the little plastic center, I was attacking the whole ball. I used two hands now, while the 8-ball
rolled around on the ground. With sweat pouring down my face and my mind in stage of fury, a
new weapon appeared in my head. I dropped the hammer, raced into my garage, and found it
sitting on an old kitchen cabinet…the sledgehammer. I let out an evil chuckle and scampered back
to the 8-ball. With two hands, I lifted the sledgehammer over my head, and struck the 8-ball,
splitting it into two pieces. I had broken through the 8-ball?s first line of defense. The only thing
left of it was a clear plastic tube, and inside I could see the cube of answers sitting in the blue ink.
My treasure was just one blow away. I give it a good shot, and the 8-ball fought back. The ink
inside of the tube immediately turned into an attacking unit, as it splashed into my eyes. I yelled
out cries of pain, and wiped my eyes off before too much damage could be delivered. I looked
down to see my pair of pants and my favorite pair of sneakers covered in blue. The 8-ball always
found a way to counterstrike. My eyes were once again planted on the cube, and I was still unable
to reach inside and grab it. I struck it one more time without thinking and the power of the strike
crushed the whole tube and the cube. I felt like a fool, but worst of all, my destiny of becoming a
human 8-ball would fall short.
On a more serious note, how did this incident strengthen my values? Well, I looked
deeper into this story, and I realized one thing: I try just as hard to fulfil my small dreams as I do
my large ones. I put in the same effort day in and day out, and whether it be to break open an
8-ball, or to become a successful stockbroker, my heart goes into everything I do. I am able to
build my self-confidence knowing that I have the mind and the heart to accomplish anything I
desire. I rarely fail at anything, and it is because I always give what it takes to get the job done.
My goal may be challenging, or almost impossible to achieve. It could be standing in front of me,
like a wall, waiting for me to finally push it off balance. As long as the goal is standing, I will
pound away for as long as it takes, and I will continue to strive until I knock it down.