Guffaw was sitting over in the corner of the jungle path with his head hung down and feeling very sad.
“Hey Guff what’s up?” asked Webby the spider monkey.
“Oh…I…..just…..I don’t know.” Guffaw moaned.
“What’s the joke du jour Guff ole pal?” said Anna the Anaconda.
“I think something has made him very sad.” observed Webby.
“SQUAWK!….Hey GUFF….tell us a funny one eh?” remarked Bluey the Hyacinth Macaw.
“I’ve never seen him like this before!” said Anna and all the others agreed.
“Hey Guff…Whaddaya call a guy that has to entertain animals all his days?….A Zookeeper! Ha…get it?” Webby was trying to cheer up Guffaw but it wasn’t working.
The animals all tried different things to cheer up their jungle pal but even a tickle under his chin from Anna didn’t change Guffaw’s sad mood.
“Maybe…Guff realizes that not everything in life is funny. That some things are quite serious and not in the least bit humorous.” Bluey was a smart bird. All of the other animals agreed to that. After all, Hyacinthe Macaws were the only ones in that particular South American jungle that could imitate that awful sounding human voice.
Well…all the animals tried everything they could think of to cheer up Guffaw and make him laugh again and finally after Webby had hung upside down by his prehensile tail and scratched himself and made “funny” noises and still no response from Guff, Webby said…”Well, I guess we all just have to give up!”
Then as all of the animals began to leave, Webby slipped on a banana peel and fell down.
“HA HA HA…..Ho….that WAS FUNNY!!!!” Guffaw was laughing so much his sides started to hurt.
Well, Webby’s sides and arm hurt too and he said to Guffaw…”Some things are funny and you can laugh but….I think I hurt my “humerus” bone!”

“May I introduce to you the King Of Silly.
To whom you always must bow willy nilly”
“And every time to him you address
Our Royal King… as “Your Sillyness!”

The Kingdom wasn’t always silly you see
It used to be as sad as any could be
Then our King one day passed a decree
“ALL subjects must at once be quite SILLY!”

Well many found it easy to be
As silly as…well as silly as he
But some like Mr. Perious
Had a difficult time not being serious

The King sent his envoy over to meet
With Mr. Perious living on Somber Street
But it didn’t take long to correct his woes
With huge orange shoes and a big red nose

Then there was the librarian named Miss Proper
She was always serious and we couldn’t stop her
A simple solution was a feather dress
That constantly tickled…everywhere you could guess

So the Kingdom was peopled with the silliest kind
That had never a serious thought on their mind
We were all happy telling jokes and singing a song
That is…until YOU came along!

GET SILLY!

Six sets (of six items each) from which the author needs to select 6 single items (one in each catagory) and then write a short story including those subjects selected by rolling a die each time.

Category One …PROTAGONIST

1.Young Girl
2.Young Boy
3.A Dragon
4.A cardboard Box
5.An ant
6.A disappearing kitten

Category Two…ANTAGONIST

1.A Snake
2.A Mosquito
3.Hurricaine
4.Crazy Cartoon come to life
5.Runaway Train
6.A Grandpa

Category Three…SETTING

1.A Pond
2.The Dessert
3.A Cave
4.An Island
5.City Park
6.A Carnival

Category Four…TIME

1.1865
2.1925
3.2200
4.Midnight
5.4th of July
6.New Years Eve

Category Five…NUMBER OF CHARACTERS

1.Two
2.Six
3.A Thousand and One
4.Five
5.Twelve
6.Thirteen

Category Six…TYPE OF STORY

1.Happy
2.Scary
3.Silly (my favorite)
4.A Little Sad
5.Narration
6.Third Person

Story doesn’t have to be very long…(but must include all categories.) HAVE PHUN!!!

“Hi…thanks for chatting with me. I almost never get to open my pages, feel warm hands on my binding and watch the hungry smiles on the faces of my adopted family anymore.” “I guess my old recipes are too high in calories and take too much time to make. And also Mary, the young housewife that purchased me so many many years ago, is now a Grandma, and I just don’t contain those popular “kooking for kid’s” recipes that are so popular today.
My spine is weak and I’ve got stains all over my pages…and admittedly there are a few tears and some “foxing” too.”
“In fact page 51 is completely missing but I’m sure that modern cooks aren’t too interested in larding gamebirds.”
“Actually, the last time someone pulled me out of the bookcase, the iPad wasn’t even invented yet!”
“Wait…who is that with you? He looks very intelligent and he seems to be looking at every one of my pages. What’s that he’s saying?”
“Yes Mrs. Jenkins I believe you have one of the rarest cookbooks in existence…and luckily, back there in the corner of the bookcase is page 51. With some restoration I think it will make a very important addition to the National Cookbook Museum.”

“So now…I’m completely restored and I feel young again. I have my own stand and spotlight and many interested folks are smiling and remembering when my recipes were being made.”
“Mary even came by to say “Hi” and brought her friends to see me.
If you ever need to know how to prepare Beef Wellington, look me up!”

Eric Smith was smiling after his favorite teacher complimented him on his creative writing. She suggested that if he wanted to become an excellent writer, he should try to “…write every single day. Write up a storm Eric!”
Well, to Eric’s creative mind, this also meant writing a story about a storm!
As our boy was sitting at his home keyboard he started out by writing…”The sun disappeared behind a great grey cloud and within a matter of seconds, lightning began lighting up the afternoon sky above the boy’s home.”
Eric stopped typing because he heard rumbling sounds not only coming from outside but rattling the window panes.
As Eric looked outside, the sun had disappeared behind a great grey cloud and it was beginning to rain.
“NAW!” Eric thought. But then…what if…? He typed…”Suddenly the sun burst through the huge cloud and the rain stopped, the lightning stopped and of course, the thunder ceased.”
When he looked back outside the sun WAS back and the rainstorm was GONE!
“Hmmmm.” He, just like you would do, tried it again and the same result happened.
So, of course, Eric wrote of a sunny day of 72 degrees and as soon as he typed the last period he went outside to play!
When Eric woke up the next morning, it was raining and he hadn’t written “up a storm” as he did the day before.
So, the magic of “storm writing” only lasted one afternoon but it was huge fun and helped Eric Smith decide exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up…a meteorologist!

“Tommy…it’s time to practice your piano lesson Dear.”
“Aww Mom…can’t I just skip today? I promise I’ll practice twice as long tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid not Tommy….you know the rules.”
“But the guys are having a great neighborhood soccer tournament…and we’ve just GOT to beat those guys from Waverly!”
“You can play AFTER your practice…it’s only for thirty minutes Tommy!”
“It’ll be too late then…AW MOM….PLEASE?”
“Sorry Dear…one day you’ll thank me for insisting that you practice your piano…you’ll see.”

Tommy hung his head and trudged off to the living room and sat down at the piano.”I hate you!” He grunted at the piano making sure not to say it too loudly because he didn’t want his Mom to hear him. Then he banged a D Major seventh chord as hard as he could!
“Ouch!”
Tommy’s eyes grew as big as saucers as he stared at the piano. Then he banged a C Minor chord and heard “Hey…take it easier please.”
“You….ah….can….t-talk?”
“I can complain when I’m struck in anger!”

Just then Tommy heard his Mom yell out to him from the kitchen…”I don’t hear those scales that you are supposed to be playing Tommy. Your thirty minutes doesn’t start until you do!”
“Ah…yes Mom.”

He began playing his practice scales and after the series of scales and chords in his routine warm up he realized that the piano hadn’t “said” another word. As Tommy progressed through his lesson he started to think that maybe he had imagined the “conversation” that had transpired with the piano. He played “Clair de Lune” for his final practice selection without one error. That had never happened before. “Maybe the piano is…helping me……Naw…that’s crazy!”

“That was beautiful Tommy…I actually had a tear in my eye listening to your playing.” Tommy’s Mom stood at the door to the kitchen smiling wider than Tommy had ever seen her smile.
“Oh great!” thought Tommy…”Now I’ll never be able to give up those stupid piano lessons!”

It was years later when Tommy was sitting in a field box in England watching Manchester United versus the Italian National team playing a crucial soccer game when a young boy came up to him.

“Sir…would you sign my autograph book please. My Mom took me to see your appearance with the London Philharmonic and we have all of your recordings…in fact….I chose to play the piano because of you.”
“Sure son…I’ll be glad to sign your book.”
After signing and watching the boy return to his seat, Tommy turned to the person sitting next to him and said “Thanks Mom!”

Jenny could just barely remember visiting Great Uncle Jasper’s old country house when she was very small. She recalled thinking that the shabby old pile of rotting wood that was badly in need of a coat of paint was going to collapse with her inside. The pipes leaked and the floors creaked when walked upon even though she was only 6 then and not very heavy.
On overnight visits she actually would dream that ghosts flew around her bedroom, at least she was pretty sure that they were dreams.
If fact, there was really only one thing about those dreary visits that Jenny found pleasant, and that was when she would sit upon Uncle Jasper’s lap in his tatty wing chair by the fireplace and he would tell wonderful stories that were sometimes exciting, sometimes funny and sometimes were just so much fun that she just found herself smiling all story long.
Uncle Jasper was living at “Mission Valley Rest Home” now and Jenny’s parents were handling the sale of his old house. Jenny was not sad about visiting the old dilapidated house for the last time but did want to sit in the wing chair once more since it was the only place on the whole property where she had fond memories.
There it was. The chair hadn’t been moved an inch from the spot where it had always been.
Jenny decided to sit in the chair one final time to at least add one moment of pleasantness to the entire visit.
She slapped the seat and a cloud of dust rose up into the sun streaked room and Jenny held her nose and her breath until the dust storm moved away with the draft that was flowing in through the broken window.
Jenny sat in the seat being careful not to lean back or put her hands and arms onto the upholstery. She was a big girl now and her head was high enough to be at the level of the side wings of the chair.
“Go ahead…sit back…relax and I’ll tell you a story just like I used to tell your Great Uncle Jasper.”
WHAT????
Jenny was frightened at first as she realized that it was actually the old chair “talking” to her. She looked around to make sure that it wasn’t some electronic joke that her Mom and Dad were playing on her…but there were no speakers, no electricity and no wifi…nothing! AND, the chair knew things that no one else but her and Uncle Jasper knew.
She sat back and finally relaxed and listened to a story about a little girl that became the most famous writer of children’s stories in the world.
“Jenny…..Jenny…..JENNY!…we’re ready to go Dear.” It was Jenny’s Dad’s voice breaking through her story concentration.
“Ah….well….OK Dad….but I want to keep this chair please….there were so many happy memories of Uncle Jasper when I used to sit in it with him.”
“I don’t think so Jenny….it’s so….”
“We ….I….could clean it up and put it in my room and…”
Jenny’s Mom and Dad just looked at each other. Then Jenny’s Mom said….”Well….I…”
“THANK YOU….Thank You both SOOOOOOO much.”
The ride back home to Jenny’s house had one added passenger strapped onto the pickup truck bed and when Jenny finally got the chair situated in her bedroom corner, she sat down and the chair told her a story about a very scared Story Chair that was taken on a wild ride in a Ford 150.

All the boys and all the girls
The ones with straight hair
And the ones with curls
Well all of the kids on Read Avenue
All had something that they loved to do

If there was even one book around
Or when on those rare times when books would abound
Nearly all of the kids on Read Avenue could be found
With noses buried in books and not looking around

The library over on Madison Street
Had rows of books lined up real neat
But all of the Read kids had already read ’em
And there were no new books so they couldn’t get ’em

When you read a book two or three times
Especially if it’s a book chuck full of rhymes
Well there’s no surprises… no none at all
It almost makes one want to go to the mall

But then one day an amazing thing
I believe it was on the last day of spring
A truck pulled up to the Goodwill Store
Filled with books from door to door

The clerk at the Goodwill sent the book truck away
“We can’t take all those books!” and she shouted “Nay!”
But there was a resident of Read Avenue there
And he talked with the driver with the flaming red hair

Merely ten minutes later the truck full of books
Unloaded it’s cargo under smile happy looks
And that summer on Read Avenue there’s no doubt
Reading too many books made kid’s eyeballs fall out!

Hi…my name…well my ACTUAL Latin name is Canis Lupis Familiaris but my human family named me “Butch” Not in love with that moniker but you know humans.
Anyhow, I’ve got this 10  year-old boy named Chuck who is my responsibility to raise to know how to be kind to animals and of course, especially dogs!
He’s pretty good most of the time and I do have to take him out for walks on the end of my leash once a day and have to nudge the feeding bowl occasionally to remind him of my feeding time (I can’t open the cabinet where they keep the stuff…yet).
He doesn’t respect my nap times when he’s out of school and that really bugs me but, like I said, he’s only human so I forgive him…time and time again.
I could make life really difficult for him but I try to abide by the Golden Dog Rule because after all, he’s still a human puppy.
Humans think that a dog’s life is so easy. Well, let me tell you, raising a boy in today’s world is no piece of dog biscuit!
We’ll go out to the edge of the woods and Chuck will start doing just about EVERYTHING his Mom had just told him NOT to do.
And you KNOW that if he gets caught or worse yet, HURT…it will be TOTALLY MY FAULT and no table scraps for a week. (however long that is I’m not sure)
Maybe I’m just having a bad day and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful to my….oh I hate this word…OWNERS…they really are very nice…except for visits to the Vet.
So all in all my advice to you “would-be” boy-sitting canines out there is to pick yourself a good kid that hugs and pets you a lot and slips you plenty of treats when his parents aren’t looking too closely.
I’ll tell how to do that in my next blog.

Dog Chow for now…BUTCH.

Every night at bedtime
After my prayers are said
I say goodnight to all the things
On and near my bed

Goodnight Mr. Teddy Bear
And Mr. Panda too
And Goodnight Dolly Polly
I bid sweet dreams to you

And then Goodnight to Mom or Dad
Who came to tuck me in
And a last Goodnight to my favorite pet
My Cocker Spaniel Ben

And then they turn my light out
And my room goes black
I say Goodnight just one more time
And hope no one answers back!