It was the night before the composition was due. As I looked at the list of topics, “The Art of Eating Spaghetti(意大利面) “ caught my eyes. The word “spaghetti“ brought back the【C1】______ of an evening at Uncle Allen’ s in Belleville【C2】______ all of us were seated around the table and Aunt Pat【C3】______ spaghetti for supper. Spaghetti was an exotic (外来的) treat in【C4】______ days. Never had
I eaten spaghetti, and【C5】______ of the grown-ups had enough experience to be good【C6】______ it. Eating Spaghetti was a funny story. 【C7】______, I wanted to write about that, but I wanted to【C8】______ it down simply for my own【C9】______ , not for Mr. Fleagle, my composition teacher. As for him, I would write something else.
When I finished it the night was half gone and there was no【C10】______ left to write a proper composition for Mr. Fleagle. There was no choice next morning but to hand in my work. Two days passed before Mr. Fleagle returned the【C11】______ papers. He said, “Now class, I want to read you a composition, ’The Art of Eating Spaghetti’.“
My words! He was reading my words out【C12】______ to the whole class. 【C13】______ laughed, then the whole class were laughing with open-hearted enjoyment. I did my best not to show【C14】______, but what I was feeling was pure happiness, for my words had the power to make people【C15】______.
