Books 676-680

Greetings, all.

 

It's been a long past eight or nine months or so.

And I know you must be disappointed in me.

Because, you see,

I've lied to you repeatedly. 

 

I've apologized for being away,

and then I've promised I'd come back soon and write more.

Falsities.

Untruths.

Lies.

 

But you know what?

It's okay.

I know you'll forgive me.

After all,

I'm pretty sure you don't show up right away

to read every bit of nonsense I write.

 

Our relationship is built on one or both us not showing up. 

This is just how things work. 

In other words,

if you don't read this post,

don't worry about it.

I probably won't remember writing it. 

 

See?

Everything's all better now.

 

By popular request,

(and by that I mean I asked my mother what I should write in this post)

today we'll be writing

One Sentence Stories

for each of these childrens' books. 

 

Woohoo?

 

 

They would have to DVR that evening's episode of CSI...

 tonight they had their own bunny to find.

 

 

Camouflage had never been his forte,

but Willie wasn't going to give up the game of

hide and seek 

now.

 

 

The accident had left him with only six fingers,

but at least he still had the rest of his limbs —

he could still reach for his dreams.

 

 

It had taken many days and countless tubes of paint,

but at last the painting was done;

now all Grover needed to do

was figure out how to get it back to the nest.

 

Okay, friends,

getting to this last book, 

I'm having some difficulty.

Look at it:

 

 

Making jokes about headless dogs

or debilitating spinal conditions

is impolite, insensitive, and wrong. 

I can't go there.

And I've really run out of things to say about red socks. 

 

I will happily send some of my wonderful

Tabasco Cinnamon Sugar Cookies

to whomever can come up with 

the best amusing and tasteful

(pun not originally intended, but okay)

One Sentence Story. 


Post your sentence story below,

otherwise the cookies are all mine.