So, I'm diseased. I'm at home, missing my kidlets.
Recently I've introduced them to an amazing web-club called, The Writers' Club.
I've been encouraging these kiddies to write stories. They've been hassling me to do the same.
Amidst sniffles, tissues and a cough that is slowly relenting, here 'tis.
The sniffles and sneezes of a man-cold
Creaking out of bed, the elegant educator stumbled, bleary-eyed into his study. He switched on his computer and opened The Writers’ Club. Seeing a ‘Get Well Soon’ message from one of his great kidlets, Apples, made him miss school even more.
The dapper disciplinarian began typing a story for his class to enjoy. As he began to type his first word, he spotted a ginger flash in the corner of his eye. “No, Falcore!” he yelled. “Don’t pee on that!” Sadly, our incredible instructor was too late as Falcore had already peed all over Bianca’s maths book. The stylish schoolteacher face-palmed, sighed, spluttered a little and decided to ignore the mess. He returned his focus to the computer.
The pulchritudinous professor typed quickly, as typing was his special talent. He wrote a story about a teacher suffering the depths of a man-cold who had decided to write a story for his class. He was careful not to mention the name of his hero. This would keep the kidlets guessing…. Was the story about himself or just some other random, sick, good-looking guide? Had he left any tell-tale hints in paragraph two? Were the kidlets smart enough to notice?
The story started to become a bit confusing. It seemed that the author was indeed writing a story about writing a story about writing a story about writing a story about writing a story….
As Storm, his Himalayan-Cross cat, strolled into the study for a pat, the hero of our story, a noble and impressive instructor, completed his story by finding one more way to describe his main character without giving away the character’s name. He admired the sentence he’d just written. It was huge, with five commas, but it worked. “Nice,” he thought.
Falcore crunched away on some dry food in the lounge room. Storm received her pats and the admirable abecedary returned to bed for another nap. “Perhaps tomorrow,” he thought, “I can return to school and see the kidlets again.”