It's snowing and dismal here, but hey! I wore green anyway. Actually it's kind of lovely, but I resent the snow too much to appreciate it. St. Patty's should be green, dammit, green!
So, my grandmother was going through her papers and found some stories that I'd written her when I was six years old. They are...very, very funny, and I thought I'd share one here. This was transcribed by some adult-type person at the time, and is now copied verbatim for your edification.
One day there was a terrible storm and three lions went out to seee why the world was wide. So they got picked up by a hurricane. They didn't die, oh no! So they jumped out of the hurricane and they got caught by the mean old cobra snakes. They fought with those mean old cobra snakes and they were bitten, but they didn't die, oh no! So they went home to their wives and three months later they became proud fathers. Their children grew in grace and they were just like their fathers: strong, brave, and unkillable. Incorrigeable, too. There were two daughters and three sons that one had; another father had one daughter and ten sons; the third father was still waiting for his babies. His wife was supposed to have them on the same day as the other mothers but she didn't have them on the same date. The lions were becoming suspicious that the witch before she died put a curse on the lioness. They broke her spell jar and all the spells that she put before she died broke. But the wife still did not have the babies on the same day as the others. Three days later the wife had the cubs. There wasn't just one, there were thirteen baby cubs. But those cubs were better than the others. They were stronger and more pushable than the others. (If you are pushable it's better.) The End.