Possumblog

STORYTIME COMPLETED!!

It being so slow today, let's do something that I used to do with my kids--make up a story as we go along!

We'll do it like this: I'll start off with some introductory stuff, and then pause. The first person who comments gets to pick the word or phrase to go in the spot, and then we continue on like that with various stops and starts until we've told a story and you're good and tired and ready to go to sleep!

AND NOW, YOUR BEDTIME STORY.

Once upon a time (as all good stories begin), there was a very large Kangaroo, hopping merrily along his way. As he hopped, he carried with him a very large pair of cymbals. He hopped and banged and crashed and hopped and clanged, making a most fearsome noise!

He had just rounded the corner onto Main Street when he saw--or more accurately--heard the thundering, thumping, window-rattling thud of a bass cannon-equipped hoopty, even though it was allllllll the way down at the other end of Main Street.

It got closer, and closer, and closer, and then pulled up and stopped right in front of the kangaroo! Inside the car were twelve drummers drumming, and they continued to drum away in time with the music booming from the car! SUCH A RACKET THEY MADE!

They drummers saw the kangaroo, and one of them leaned out the window and said to the kangaroo, "What's YOUR name?" The kangaroo looked at them with a very puzzled look, and said "What'd you say?! I can't hear you!"

It was a very odd scene, what with a cymbal-carrying kangaroo conversing with a caboodle of cacophonic kids!

The drummer who asked the kangaroo his name couldn't hear the kangaroo say that he couldn't hear what the drummer said, and so he turned down the radio (since he knew no one else would be able to hear him if he told someone else to do it) and then started swatting everyone to make them quit their drum-banging so he could hear the kangaroo.

"Hi, Kangaroo," the drummer said, "what is your name?" The kangaroo, even though his long ears were still ringing, heard the question. He sat back on his long rubbery haunches, rubbed his furry little chin and said "My name is Lonnie!"

Well, not really, but that's what he tells strangers.

His parents named him "Hoppy" and he just hates it.

But with this load of suspicious noisy drummers, Hoppy, or Lonnie, figured he'd never seen anything quite so strange, and figured now was as good a time as any to use a name he liked. So Lonnie it was.

"Hi, there, Lonnie! Look, Lonnie, we're lost and were wondering if you could tell us how to get to San Jose? That's where they're having the nearest drum and bugle corps contest, you know."

Hoppy wasn't so sure about this--not only were there no towns called San Jose anywhere near, the drummers didn't have a single bugler in the car. Something about the situation made Hoppy's little black nose twitch (which he hated more than being called Hoppy).

It was right then and there that Hoppy decided to [Something good, I hope!]...

WE INTERRUPT THIS BEDTIME STORY FOR SOME ACTUAL NEWS: Giant badgers terrorise Iraqi port city

Friends, that's no badger--IT'S CHUPACABRA!! Or Manbearpig. Or Batboy.

Jim Smith sent me that, because he knows I'm a sucker for stories about giant flesh-eating, monkey-faced badgers.

Anyway, now back to the EXCITING! ENDING! OF! your bedtime story!

It was right then and there that Hoppy decided to take off the kangaroo suit, stop hopping around like a moron and get on with life as Mr Robert H. R. Johansson of 15 Elder Parade, Essendon; a plumbing supplies merchant and aspiring political candidate!

THE END

WOW! Didn't see that one coming!

Thanks to all who participated in the Storytime for yesterday/today and I hope it helps you as you sail off to Slumberland. Or someplace similar.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at July 11, 2007 12:12 PM