I'm a little bummed this afternoon, since my Buckeyes just lost to Michigan. However, I must rise above my distress and carry on with my mission: to bring you a Saturday Story. It is my duty.
Since this is the last Saturday in November, I wanted to ask you guys if you'd like me to continue this "feature," of sorts. Maybe not on a weekly basis and maybe not on Saturday, but would you like to read more of my childhood writings? Because oh, there are so many more that are just begging to be shared.
This week's tale is a bit longer than the others. However, do not anticipate that this story will have a point, or even make sense, just because it has more pages. Because it really doesn't -- have a point, or make much sense.
So, Zach's coat. That's really something, huh?
Oh how convenient that she happened to find a tame horse that spoke People!
"She dared not." What did I think I was writing, some sort of classical masterpiece?!
Yeah, I'm pretty sure her bag only changed colors because I accidentally used the wrong marker. At least I covered for my mistake seamlessly.
I'll translate. The medal said: "My name is Buttermilk. I belong to the Snow Queen. I am a friend to no one. I love the Snow Queen."
Yes, because that's just what you do when your brother has been taken by an evil woman (who, by the way, doesn't seem to have really done anything too untoward yet): You lay down and take a nap.
You guys, look at her HAIR. Was I a child of the early '90s, or what?
She got off the "ride." I even used quotation marks. Ha.
My first picture-less page. It was just too important for a picture.
Their grandma is so fashionable. I kind of love her outfit.