So there I was, riding on a 30-foot-tall flower that was jumping in its pot through the halls of the White House.
It all started when the sunflower seeds I planted grew into a strange, majestic bloom. Overnight, it had grown into a 16-foot-high beanstalk with a huge, glowing flower. Its pale jade stem was as thick around as me, and the center of it was a sparkling orb the size of an exercise ball. The petals were 4 feet wide and had a rainbow appearance as if they were very colorfully tie-dyed. My parents had been shocked when it shaded our house from the sunrise that morning.
"This is amazing!" Mom cried tearfully, hugging me tightly. "You’re going to be famous!"
"We’ll be millionaires!" Dad shouted gleefully as he ran down the street flailing his arms.
The Channel 13 news crew was called to do a segment on my unusual plant, which I’ve named "The Magical Umbrella Bloom". Before I knew it, my flower and I were sent off to the White House in a private jet. A special hole was even cut in the roof, seeing as the plant grows several feet every hour. We were greeted with a team of several guards, the president, and dozens of excited biologists. As I impertinently led the procession to the Oval Office, to converse with the officials, 10 men in green berets struggled to carry the pot of my sacred bloom behind me.
In the office, I sipped tea with a plate of cookies in front of me, then I sat back and turned to business matters.
"Mr. President," I began, "what do you want to do with my plant and why?" I narrowed my stare.
He seemed surprised at my confidence, but merely raised his eyebrows and leaned forward at his desk.
"With a bloom as rare and unusual as this, it cannot remain undocumented, can it?" he smiled, revealing many straight, gleaming teeth. "If you would comply, I would like to purchase it from you so that it can be studied. I will offer you 10,000 dollars."
My jaw dropped. "No, it is not for sale," I told him flatly.
His gaze narrowed, too. "Very well, then. 50,000 dollars. Miss, we need that plant for research."
"I’m sorry, Mr. President, but it’s mine, and I’m taking it home." I turned on my heel and snapped my fingers at the men to carry it out for me. Its stem was curling under the ceiling as it grew and its petals were now as large as canopies.
"Stop!" yelled Mr. President, and four huge sumos in tuxes jumped out from who-knows-where and crowded around me. Suddenly, the room filled with a red glow. The mysteriously shining flower had changed from its tie-dyed appearance to a bright, angry red. Its petals curled menacingly, and it turned to face the shivering president. He sputtered and ran for the door. The guards blocked the exit, but when the hissing plant shoved them out of the way, they scattered.
"Go, go!" I cried, and I was scooped up in the cradle of the flower and carried as it hopped in its pot down the hall. It was as loud as a herd of angry elephants. I hung on for dear life as we were chased by the guards who had come to their senses.
In a few seconds, I could see the door that led outside. As we leapt through, I shouted:
"Yes! We made it!" and I thrust my arms in the air.
I slid down the bloom’s stem when I saw my parents and ran into their arms. For a moment, we gazed at the towering flower, which was now around 35 feet tall. Soon, the president came running crazily out to us.
"Quick, get in!" my mom cried, and she hurriedly scrambled in the jet herself. Dad and the bloom were right behind us, and we took off just in time.
I smiled and waved at the president as he huffily tried to keep up with us.
"So long, Mr. President!" I yelled. To this day, he still writes to me once a month, offering more and more money for my flower, but ever since our narrow encounter, the bloom and I have been great partners, and I will never sell my friendship with it.