Class Assignment: Passages in a verbal style

Assignment: Develop two 200-word passages in a verbal style; one for conjectural stasis, the other for the definitional.

Conjectural: My big toe glows a bright red, throbs with a gentle pulse, slowly oozes fluid. Sparks of pain scramble up my leg and take a passing stab at my knee. I swallow tears of pain; it wouldn't do to cry after biting back my initial yelp. Clutching my foot for a moment or two while hopping along, I decide it would be faster (although I'll probably regret the pain) to drop it and hobble back to my room. Tossing a fierce glare backwards at the offending bench, I limp a few more steps before I sink pathetically down on the grass lining the walkway and moan a couple times. So what if I'm fishing for some sympathy. I deserve it. Ripping off my flip flops and tossing them several feet away and resolving to take revenge on the genius who stuck a bench where I could so easily injure myself, I have just about reached the end of my rope. Then my bag chirps. I discover delightedly that I have received a text, and, typing furiously, strive to get back into the groove of my conversation - the one that had just been so rudely interrupted.

Definitional: Time to assess the damages. The first shock is past, I am firmly and comfortably settled beside the bustling walkway (and yes, plenty of people are staring); this toe needs some attention. Peering closer, I shudder to discover copious amounts of shredded skin that's lined with crunchy gravel, and those nasty little bits are gnawing at the raw pinkness underneath. I poke gingerly at a not-quite-so-pink spot and wince, squeak, and peer around to see if that got me any attention. Attempt one: failed. This is gonna hurt. Pulling out my water bottle and a tissue, I make the necessary preparations for my invasion of raw, pink, squeal-inducing territory, then dab cautiously at the wound's edge. Squeal two: successful. On a stubbed-toe scale of one to ten, this one is definitely a twelve. But I still have a war to win. I squirt more water onto the soggy tissue, close my eyes, and steel myself for the painfully inevitable. And then I take a swipe.