A/N: This story is based off of Sandra Cisneros' novel, "The House On Mango Street." However I have added and taken away some parts to make it a little more creative and original. Enjoy this trash book.

Me and my family have lived on Rock N' Roll Avenue for as long as I can remember. Rock N' Roll Avenue is in Uptown. Momma says that she and Papa moved into the apartment months after they married. Then we came along. First it was Axel, then me, then Granite, and then Hecate. They say they had a hard time paying for child care, but they eventually got the hang of it. We live in an apartment dead smack in the middle of Volcano Rock City, where all the Rock Trolls live. We didn't ALWAYS live on Rock N' Roll Avenue. Last time it was Guitar String Street in Downtown, then Drum Boulevard in Melody Rhode Island, then that tiny loft in Instrument Long Island, and the ones before that I don't know, because they were before I was born, when Axel was around 3 years old.

The apartment is two stories, and it's ours. We don't have to pay rent to anybody or share our lawn, with the many people downstairs, or be careful of making too much noise, because there was no landlord banging on the ceiling with a broom. But it's not the house we imagined. Me and my siblings all have different wishes about our dream houses; Axel wants a condo with a pool, I want a cute cottage in the woods, Hecate wants a loft, and Granite wants nothing but a mansion. Poppa said so many times that a mansion was way to much to afford, but Granite keeps on dreaming.

The brick walls were covered in white paint, and when Momma and Poppa were in need of peace and quiet, we would sit on the cold wooden floor and scrape the paint off, then roll the chips into tiny white balls and play with them. It was fun and kept us busy while Momma and Poppa made dinner. The only place on the floor that wasn't cold was the mesh striped rug in between the coffee table and couch. It was fun and kept us busy while Momma and Poppa made dinner.