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that his wife, Deidre, was a witch.
But until that June day, when he had refused to build her yet another pergola and she had imperiously whipped out that pink, sparkly stick, he hadn't taken them, or her, seriously.
Now, after twelve lonely months in solitary confinement, listening to the sound of gnawing mice creep closer and closer to his cardboard jail in the dark, musty basement, Elmer hung in the tree, quivering with joy and excitement.
Only a few more days until Christmas Eve, when all toys came to life all over the world!
He was an ornament with a plan who was finally seeing daylight, er, tree lights at the end of the tunnel.
Thanks, I enjoy the challenge presented by the Funnies!
Maybe I should finish it up and submit it somewhere, eh?
I have a masters in creative writing, a bachelors degree in journalism, and am a huge fan of Prairie Home Companion.
My kids grew up with me making up stories on the fly.
I learned how to do it from my dad.
So I guess he passed on the story telling gene. (0:
Well, it's one thing to come up with something to say every so often and quite another to come up with great lines every single week.
Thanks, Melody, for all of your hard work.
Have a great Christmas!