Tuesday, February 15, 2011

What's For Dinner? A Pass A Long Story? Yum.

Good Morning! And sorry this is late. I had a "What's for dinner?" kind of morning. It went something like this.

Me staring at blank computer screen wondering what to blog about: Ummmmm. Ummmm. Ummmmm.

Me: ...

Me: ...

Me: O fudge.

It was exactly the same feeling I get every time one of the kids asks, "What's for dinner?"

You know, that panicked moment when you glance at the clock and realize it's 5:45 and dinner is supposed to be in fifteen minutes and you got nothing. Zero. Nada. Cereal?

Well, I didn't want to give you plain old cereal so I found this instead:

Delicious isn't it?

My question is, what's the story behind the pic? How did the bike become a part of the tree? Did a dryad have an unfortunate accident? Or did the tree just need more 'fiber' in its diet?

Here's the deal, I'll start the story, and you all add to it. Just post a paragraph or two about what happens next. It'll be fun and so much better than cereal.

Trenton lay sprawled on the forest floor, helmet askew and moss clinging to his face like Mr. Potato Head's mustache. What happened?

A faint crunching sound drew his attention, and he scrambled to his feet.

You write the rest. Let's hear what happened to the bike. And please play along. Please, please please. *Rubs hands together and grins*

Leisha Maw


Jonene Ficklin said...

He couldn't see anything around him except piles of acorn shells, some of which were embedded in his forearms. Grimacing, he swiped at them.

Then the crunching sound repeated and he looked up in time to see his bike wiggling in the 'v' of a tree.

"What the . . . ?"

Tiny ropes looped around the handlebars. Tiny grunts came from up in the tree.

The bike rose a foot.

Jonene Ficklin said...

(All right, I'm dying to write who is up in the tree. Forgive me?)

Trenton's jaw dropped and he scrambled to his feet, body aching from the bike crash. Through the branches, he could see tiny green hands.

The front tire rose, but the tail end stuck.

"Hey!" Trenton shouted.

Tiny giggles emanated from the tree, then a tiny scream. A little figure wearing a formal suit of bleeding-heart red tumbled to the ground, rolling to a stop at Trenton's feet.

"Uh . . ." Trenton backed up, then squatted. Only six inches high, the little thing squealed and ducked its head under it's arm.

"No way. A leprachaun?" Trenton picked it up by the suit jacket, watching as the little legs kicked.

A second later, acorns came pelting from the tree, hitting his head.

Still holding the little man, Trenton sheilded his face as the puzzle pieces came together.

"Hey, you caused my accident!"

(All right, Leisha. What have you got? : D )

Tiana Smith said...

The tiny men only laughed in reply as they continued pelting Trenton with acorns. His bike was far out of his reach, but Trenton could only stare in amazement at the tiny man he held between his fingers.

"Let me go!" the man cried, though the cry was only loud enough for Trenton to hear if he listened hard.

"Aren't you supposed to give me three wishes or something?" Trenton asked in amazement. The leprechaun's shoes actually curled up at the toes!

"That's a genie, stupid. You're getting your fairytale creatures mixed up," the man harrumphed, crossing his arms and giving up on flailing. "Though, we don't really do the whole gold thing either to be honest. Why do you think we wanted your bike? Scrap metal, that's where the money is these days! And just you wait, soon enough, we'll have enough junk metal that we can move onto stage 2 of our Plan, and then all you annoying Big People will be history."


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