Story Time!


Here it is! The eagerly-awaited story that you all wrote! I honestly don’t even know what to say other than to warn you that it is highly entertaining – popcorn worthy, for sure! So go warm up those corn kernels, sit back, relax, and get ready for a grand adventure!

(For anyone new to my blog, click here to find out what this post is all about and how a whole heap of random people across the blogging world added their own sentences to the following story.)

Officially, this entire narrative is insanely weird – but also oh-so-funny. I’ve tried to clean it up and make it as readable as possible (and, boy, that was a nightmare!), but with so many of you contributing to it, it’s still definitely what I would call extremely wacky. But sometimes the best stories are!

I also want to apologise in advance – I’ve had to cut (or just change) a few sentences where people must have commented at the same time to the same previous sentence, causing the story to go off in forked, confusing multi-tangents. In those few cases, I’ve had to make judgement calls to follow one fork and delete another. Please forgive any editing on my part, but I felt it was necessary to help motivate an easier read (since, really, the entire story is cray-cray-crazy enough as it is, lol).

The bold parts at the beginning and end are what I wrote to start it and finish it, but the rest is all you guys (other than any minor editing and formatting I may have added to help with the flow).

I don’t think there’s anything more to say… So, here it is: your story. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, there was a girl who dreamed of having her very own adventure…

It would be a grand adventure, full of fun and excitement.

She wanted to take her dog along with her, but she knew she would have to find a way to disguise him; people who saw a small girl wandering around with a big Great Dane were bound to ask questions.

I’ll put Father’s winter vest on him and people might think he’s a sheep, she thought.

He was asleep, so it wasn’t easy to slip the fur-lined vest over his barrel chest, but she managed just as the grandfather clock chimed midnight. She needed to hurry.

“Maybe if I add a hat, he could pass as my grandfather!” she exclaimed. So, with that in mind, she made her way into her grandfather’s closet to fetch a hat …..

Pleased with the results, off she went, down the path and skipping along until she bumped into her grumpy old neighbour, George.

George raised a tired eyelid, looked at her with resignation, and muttered quietly, “Oh my … oh my…”

“What’s wrong with your eye?” she blurted out.

“Why, my dear, nothing at all. My eye always looks like this. We cannot all have lovely twinkly eyes such as yours.”

Before she could respond, George added, “But what are you doing?”

“I’m reworking the theory of light, of course,” she answered sarcastically. “What else would anyone with half a purpose be doing?”

What she really wanted was to fly around the world in a big, stripy hot air balloon with a proper wicker basket that had all mod-cons attached to it. But alas, her budget did not allow for hot air balloons. Nor did she have any acquaintance among the unicorns. She’d simply have to find alternate means of transportation. Fortunately, there was nothing wrong with her two feet, and not really knowing the unicorns or where to begin to ask, she decided that her trusty old bicycle would have to do and, smiling, she popped her dog, Mr Wondy, into the front basket.

As she continued down the street, she became distracted by the melodious singing coming from the birds in the trees. She wandered off after the chirping and singing coming from the birds. Could they be telling her something? She thought they had tried to reach her before about something similar. If so, would it be truthful, sincere, a beauty of which the world has never known?

Suddenly, the chirping got louder, and several flamingos were gently lowering a boy dressed as a Lolita girl down to the ground.

In a panicked voice, he yelled, “Help me, help me!”

At his call, she pulled out her guns, and shot into the sky.

The flamingos scattered from the sound of gun shots, and the boy’s Lolita dress acted like a parachute and he fluttered safely to the ground.

“Thank you,” he muttered to her, while thinking, Well, it could’ve been worse.

The boy decided it wasn’t a good idea to be amongst the chaos, so in his Lolita dress, he ran towards the exit of the city gate, wondering how he had gotten there in the first place. But the gate had been shut for the last two thousand years. So, he ran back into the chaos, sat down cross-legged, put his fingers in his ears and shut his eyes tight.

With a fortifying breath, he decided to get up and try again, and he was amazed to find that the gate was open! So he sprinted as fast as he could, wanting to make it through before it closed for another two thousand years.

He was almost out of the gate, out of the chaos, when he heard a familiar voice call his name.

The voice, which seemed to be surreal yet so peaceful, was coming out from a Jabber-Jay… No, it wasn’t a Jabber-Jay; it was a mutant of his ex… No, not even that; it was a huge blue tiger which was smoking a pipe as big as his tail!

The boy blinked and immediately the strange vision disappeared. What had been in those cookies he had decided to snack on?

“Hey, buddy… Whoa there, are you feeling okay?”

The question was asked by a beautiful girl with a dog who stood in front of his eyes. There where colours radiating from her; she was a shining light. But the shining light didn’t last long; only a fleeting moment of a vision so lovely it was almost surreal.

“Are you an angel?” he asked, awed.

She shook her head slowly back and forth, and stared at the boy who was wearing the exact same Lolita dress as she. “Not quite an angel. Are you?”

“Me? An angel? Not even close,” he replied.

She smiled serenely and said, “Well, I’m no angel, but then again, no one else is an angel, either.”

He was so awed by her beauty that he said, “I can be whatever you want me to be. I can be a unicorn, or a turtle, or even a rainbow! As long as you don’t ask me to be a Kardashian!”

“I want you to be my knight in shining armor,” she told him.

“That would kinda hard, seeing as I have no armor and neither am I a knight.” He winked. “Plus, I’m wearing a Lolita dress representing Lolitaville, and knights are not supposed to wear dresses. So, what are your other choices for me to be?”

She thought about it for a moment before saying, “Um, in a dress like that, I suppose you could be a bard?”

“A bard, you say? Why, I’ve always wanted to be a bard! I always did feel deep inside my soul a longing to be a bard. I’ve been bardy since I can remember, probably never dressed for full-out bardiness though,” he ranted, unable to stop.

“Oh, you are even talking like a bard!” remarked a dwarf, who appeared out of nowhere to join the conversation.

The boy’s rant had been a jumbled mess of words to his ears, but maybe it had made sense inside their brains. He wondered what they were really thinking, since it was a rant of laughter… a rant that only some could understand, not all.

Out of nowhere, they were interrupted by an awful sound. It was high-pitched and screechy.

The boy’s ears weren’t designed to process such sounds, so he simply hopped on his lily pad and floated away, leaving the girl alone with her dog once more.

The only thing standing in the way of her adventure were a few minor pieces of evidence. So, carefully, she sorted through each item, determined to make sense of it all. She couldn’t believe that the jigsaw puzzle pieces that she was trying to put together were keys unlocking her entry into an amazing world where she could travel across the galaxy within a blink of an eye!

“If I can just solve this puzzle, then maybe I can go there and save my father,” she said to no one but herself.

She moved the last of the pieces into place, and heard a clicking noise.

Click, click, click.

She ran to peer out the window to see where the sound was coming from. Jumping back as the door swung open, she exclaimed, “Dancing poodles?”

“Nope, just me,” said the boy, having returned from his lily pad journey. He threw his hands up in the air in what she assumed to be frustration. “We have gone through this plan fifty-six and a half times already! Would you rather replace the rabbits, then?”

“It’s not the rabbits that worry me,” she replied with a skin-crawling shudder. “It’s all that damn lettuce…”

She glared over at the truckload of lettuce pulling up besides the farm and, fearful of what was to come, she rushed back inside and reached for her spell book. Chanting and waving her magic wand over the lettuce, a puff of magenta smoke billowed from the back of the truck.

She wondered what she had conjured up now and walked to the back of the truck, fighting her way through the mystic haze, to find a small green caterpillar wearing a top hat and tiny shoes.

“Hello, dear. I’m glad you’re here….” the caterpillar said with a maniacal, almost evil laugh.

“Thank you, I think,” she said as she inched slowly toward the door. “But I don’t want to be reminded of my past. Oh, and those shoes don’t match your hat.

Seeing the offended look on his tiny face, she quickly added, “Was I supposed to be here? Because only yesterday a blue caterpillar told me that I had to meet a red caterpillar today who would teach me how to kill green caterpillars using a pink caterpillar! I suppose there has been a flaw in time and nature! Oh my, black and yellow tigers! The zombie apocalypse has started!”

Little did she know that the boy had heard what she’d just said and he screamed, which made her jump right out of her skin.

“That’s the caterpillar!” he said. “I remember now! That is the one that made me dance in this Lolita dress!”

Several things happened at once: the Lolita dress spontaneously morphed into a hot pink spandex unitard, the ground shook violently from a massive earthquake, there was a solar eclipse, and the chicken coop took wing and soared into the heavens.

Just then, she saw white objects dropping like rain drops. Before long, one fell upon her too! Where she expected a vengeful spray and a condemning splash, instead it hummed and sang on her skin, and she was glad that it was one of the larger ones, because it was made of delicious chocolate.

… Chocolate that, once eaten, proved to be more than met the eye.

As she tasted the creamy milk chocolate and it melted on her tongue, she felt a strange sensation coming over her. The chocolate seemed to have given her the ability to read other people’s minds!

“I haven’t met a chocolate that I didn’t like,” said the dwarf who appeared again, now wearing the Lolita dress. “The aroma intoxicates me, makes me do silly things like…”

“Silly things like wearing that dress?” she asked.

She decided to shake off the weirdness, find a good pair of shoes and head out into the world. Each step brought her closer to that freedom she had been desperately seeking and farther away from her memories. She had never been free before, so she could only imagine what it would be like – maybe like in those ‘strong woman’ novels she had hidden under her bed. They really were rather ridiculous, now that she thought about them, and rather redundant – but they gave her hope that she could change, that life could be better. She knew that success was ninety percent confidence, after all, and how could she not be confident walking around in furry red stilettos with disco ball heels, no matter how ridiculous or redundant they were?

She had begun to realize she was stronger than her father or mother, her friends, and maybe even herself. But her epiphany was put to the test only a moment later…

With a scream that shook the stars from the sky, she drew her sword. The girl charged, crying fiercely in lieu of the battle that was about to commence. She held her sword and shield high and felt the mud beneath her boots as she ran towards the enemy, all the while cheering her troops alongside her. She felt brave and strong and not alone.

Before her was a thicket so wide and high and bristling with sharp, violent thorns that her army shuddered at the prospect of crossing it. With one swoosh of her mighty sword, she laid the thicket bare, and led her troops into the battle of their lives.

Suddenly, she was swept up into the air, feeling her arms solidly grasped in huge scaly talons, helplessly rising away from any danger or from helping her fellow soldiers; so she struggled to free herself, pointlessly, against the unshakable grip of a massive, emerald green dragon.

Using skills she had never learned, she swung the mysterious sword right and left, destroying the dragon on her quest towards the centre of the room.

Once in the centre of the room, she saw two ginormous sheep and a unicorn dancing to ‘Wrecking Ball’ by Miley Cyrus. Ignoring them completely, she dropped her sword and found the treasure she had been searching for. But an arc of lightning flew out from where the sword landed, striking the ceiling and cracking it wide open.

Rain poured into the house, soaking everything and everyone. And in the dim light of her bedroom, she stared at the creatures painted on her wall, watching as they slowly raised their hands in surrender.

She stared in disbelief, wondering how she had managed to defeat all of the horrendous creatures, and decided that she better go look for the trapped prisoners.

She began to run, and a sharp pain told her that she was injured and bleeding from her left arm. But that wasn’t going to stop her; as a Viking shield-maiden, she had suffered many wounds and lived to heal and recover. Too many of her best clothes had been covered in blood over the years, and she’d spent many a night watching the fires burn away the evidence of her inner brutality.

But now she had reached a turning point, the crux, the apex; no longer would she sacrifice others in selfish fulfilment of her own base desires. Even if, secretly, she knew she could never give up chocolate cake

Oh no! A large hairy sheepdog rushed over to the table and gulped the chocolate cake down. Disaster! So, she tiptoed into the kitchen, picked up that one crooked fork that was always at the back of the drawer – this moment called for unusual means, after all – and opened the fridge door quietly, letting the faint blue light spill into the dark kitchen, almost as if to invite attention to her late night escapade.

She thought about dancing the night away, doing the crazy crooked forked dance, but she quickly decided against, and instead skipped home to make good decisions.

While on her way home, the weather changed to thunder and lightning.

There was a little girl by the side of the road that needed help, sniffling and holding her sides to try to keep warm in the rain.

“I’ve lost my copy of War and Peace,” the little girl said.

Then, suddenly, a dog appeared, carrying a yellow umbrella in its mouth.

Our hero thought about going back for the chocolate cake and giving it to the little girl, as she knew it would be a wonderful gesture. But that might make her look slightly psychopathic, because who goes back to their house for cake when there is a little girl on the side of the road? Well, our heroine apparently.

But, she embraced her own delusions and thought she understood them clearly, for the sniffling girl was nothing more than a colorful apparition, a sorrowful figment of her own imagination, and she was the daughter of chocolate cake.

Upon realizing who and what she was, happiness and glee filled her soul with a warmth and satisfaction that could bring light even to the darkest of days.

Her happiness turned to surprise when the boy in the Lolita dress she had met early on in her journey appeared, claiming to be her dwarf father.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” she said. “But are you really my father? And why are dressed like that?’

With those words, she woke up from her dream and smiled to herself.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she gazed out the window and wondered what the dream signified and how it would completely change the course of her life. So, she took out her notebook and wrote it down so she would never forget it. But where should she hide it?

Maybe at the end of that road that led directly to the castle – maybe, maybe not.

She sat in silence, thinking about what to do next. She decided to take a walk while she thought. During the walk, the birds gave her some amazing ideas.

“Hide your secret note in our nest,” the birds chirped.

She tucked her note inside the tiny twigs, confident that whoever found the note would know what to do with it.

A giant flamingo and a boy disguised in a Lolita dress were hiding behind an inflatable gingerbread house in the backyard and watched her put the note into the nest. They quickly glanced at each other, smiled, and headed towards the nest. But when they peered into the nest, they discovered the words on the note were growing faint and were barely readable!

As they quickly read what they could of the note, the girl appeared again and snatched it away from them. She couldn’t remember what she’d written, so she squinted at the quickly-disappearing words. Her mother had always told her that anything was possible, but she never thought her adventure could bring her face to face with such a truth, written in the simplest words fathomable, and now she had to make a choice.

Consumed with the note, she didn’t see the even greater threat surrounding her. But it did not matter to her at all: for being a heroines’ heroine, she made her decision, and carefully carried it out. The consequences were some that not even she, for all her hesitation, could have predicted. All she could do was embrace her fate, and pray that the decisions she’d made leading up to this point would set her in good stead.

… Still, she was worried about what her parents would say when they found out. “Fiddle sticks!” was their usual refrain.

She thought it was probably time to tell her parents the secret about the giant flamingo and the boy still wearing the Lolita dress – why they were her friends and going to be staying in the gingerbread house in her parents’ backyard.

Oh, how she loved her gingerbread playhouse and her imaginary friends who loved her exactly as she was.

With no money to buy food, they started picking away at the gingerbread house until they had eaten their way out of house and home.

Once they were full, the girl and her two friends entered the gingerbread house to discover an old woman stirring a large pot of stew. “Hello, my dears,” she said with a sly grin. “I have something to show you.”

Fear gripped the trio and they froze just inside the door.

A strange growling sounded from across the room. Vibrations coursed through the ground even as the growl itself abated.

They struggled to stay balanced as the vibrations became stronger and stronger, almost as if it were a body, with a beating heart, until suddenly, everything was calm again. But the old woman and her pot of stew had disappeared.

Inside the dark house, the fire crackled and light from the fire lit their faces. A tiny phoenix in the spring of its lifetime danced through the flames, sending embers twirling across the room. And in that moment they all understood what it meant to be alive.

They blinked back tears at their fortune and their relief, and they set off into another story that was strange and filled with evil to conquer.

They weren’t sure who should start reading the story, or what could happen to them if they started reading that book; that magical, mysterious book. But they had to try if they wanted to banish those ruthless creatures once and for all and save their loved ones.

They knew they had to open the book; curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. But, no… They discovered that the cat was indeed alive. Puss, in her boots, was down at the roots of love, hate and desire. There she was, engaged in an intense discussion with Mephistopheles himself.

Mystery began to surround the reasoning behind the cats’ uncharacteristic disappearance. Where could they have gone? Who would help search for them?

“We need them back,” whispered a voice in a dark alleyway.

“Your cats are not your own, they have been set free as cats were meant to be. You were ever their servants, not their masters.”

And the dog wagged his tail in agreement.

The girl, her friends – the Lolita dress wearing boy and giant flamingo – reached towards the dog as if to say goodbye. None of the friends had any idea what the dog was thinking, except for the flamingo who sensed something unusual was about to happen.

The dog, seeing that the flamingo suspected something, quickly changed direction in favor of a new plan.

The flamingo was a wise old soul, and knew the dog’s impetuous nature could cost them all dearly, and then nobody would get shrimp scampi for dinner. But he hoped none of them had realised about his secret cake stash; he could have that all by himself later. He could indulge in chocolate, moist vanilla cake, topped with freshly whipped cream and sliced strawberries.

“OMG!” said the boy in the Lolita dress to the flamingo. “The vanilla cake, whipped cream and strawberries – it’s the same as the pattern on my dress! It must be a sign – but what could it mean?”

The flamingo’s eyes twinkled and it replied, “It means you’re a lucky boy, for you are going to meet Dorothy. So, off you go to the yellow brick road. But leave my little umbrella, please, for I need it for tonight’s cocktail party – which reminds me, I’m already running laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate.”

The flamingo had no other words of wisdom to offer the boy as he was more concerned about why the boy was wearing a dress.

“But what else could it mean?” the boy repeated urgently.

The flamingo blinked, perplexed by such a curious question. “It means you are looking in a mirror, of course.”

But this was a House of Fun mirror… And oh, how much fun this had been!

Puzzled by the flamingo’s explanation, the boy slowly turned towards the mirror, and was stunned to see a girl in the mirror looking back at him.

… And the sight of her own reflection was enough to wake our heroine, who with a gasp sat bolt-upright in bed and stared wide-eyed around her room, still seeing the images from her lingering dream sail across the landscape of her mind. Fires and phoenixes, magic and mayhem, chocolate cakes, swords and shields, dragons, unicorns, talking birds, Vikings, bards, dwarves, strange animals and even stranger clothing, dresses named after people – or perhaps people named after dresses – gingerbread houses, flamingos and… Miley Cyrus?

With a slightly hysterical laugh, she rubbed her tired eyes, reached for the book lying innocently on her bedside table, and whispered to herself, “This is why I don’t drink coffee before bedtime. Alice, keep your Wonderland to yourself next time, please.”

Then she placed her beloved Lewis Carroll novel back down and set about finding her way back to the real world; a place where dreams still came true and were no less wonderful… but they usually just made a little more sense.


So… What do you think?


67 thoughts on “Story Time!

  1. “Officially, this entire narrative is insanely weird …” What an inspired idea – seen through to the weirdest story one person could not write! This is sheer mad brilliance – thank you!! :-) :-)

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