Okay, okay, I get the message! I will immediately make a new post, since the comment count is getting rather...high on the past post, though I don't know why. Maybe it's because it has no pictures whatsoever, but paranoid imaginings of conspiracies.
What to write about? That's a good question.
Sometimes I wake up in the mornings with great ideas for this blog. But once I roll out of bed, the motivation is gone. So...I will write a short story, fictional of course, just for you. I can't guarantee if it'll be good quality or not.
Ahem. Once upon a short story, there lived a chipmunk named Ishmael in the Forest of Ebbs. Now, Ishmael was no ordinary chipmunk. He could speak. English. He actually had intelligence, and could understand human speech, and he was born with a mutation in his voice box and mouth and tongue, so he could actually say human speech as well. (In a fairy-tale or something, they would simply say he ate alphabet soup, and the letters didn't go to his belly, but to his brain, and he learned how to read and speak...but he can't read...)
So, we have a chipmunk named Ishmael that can speak English. One other thing you need to know about him. He loves pranks, and pulling pranks. He was a mischievious chipmunk.
One day, a group of red-neckers were being stupid, drinking, trashing the park and all that. Because of the noise, the animals in the forest tried to get as far away from them as they could. But Borris the Bear couldn't stand it. He grew so angry that he started to run towards the party. Ishmael has been aware of all the happenings. Ishmael realized that the red-neckers were drunk, and the bear was coming, so he was in for a good laugh. He grabbed a red hat, a yellow raincoat, some silly string, some duct tape, and some dried flowers from his stash of nicker-nacks. When Borris arrived on the scene, all tuckered out, he stood up behind the fire on his two hind legs. The red-neckers then ...nah, this story is pretty stupid. I ain't finishing it. I just don't have the groove right now...please come back and read some other time.
5 comments:
What?
You're going to leave me on tenterhooks like that? How cruel! How undeniabley, indescribabely, completely cruel. How am I to ever know how Ishmael uses the duct tape and silly string? I could use my imagination of course, but the end would not turn out nearly as well.
... The red-neckers then reared back in disbelief. It was quite a spectacle to behold. Borris was enormous, and the good-for-nothing red-necks had never been quite so frightened. Unfortunately, Borris's short, stumpy tail was extremely flammable, and by standing too close to the fire that appendage was soon engulfed in flame. The drunk red-necks began to scream about demon bears and other such haunts, while poor Borris wailed in agony. Luckily, Ishmael was quick and beat the fire out with the raincoat...
and then somebody else continues the story from here.
okay, okay...I'll stop being cruel. Word verification is gone!...or are you talking about something else? (p.s. I'm attempting to act clueless...)
You are cruel. You are!
Ducky, ducky! Please, please continue the story! You know that I am no good.
Oh! And thank you for taking word verification away. Today was just not my day, and could not seem to get it right.
Post a Comment