A story about Clyde
A short story intorduction for you!
I wrote this just because, off the top of my head, as i was typing so if it dosnt make much in the way of sense, i apologize. But i think this is a great place to start. Comments appreciated!
There once was a little boy named clyde. He was a terrible little boy and he never listened to his parents. One day, clyde was walking home from school, thinking about perpetrating mischeif as always, when he passed by the old vacant house. He had always passed by this house before and never once did he think of it in an abject way. But today was a differnt day for clyde, as he stood and stared, and applied his tiny brain to the creative proccess that turns out trouble. it was near a minute before the gears in his head stoped moving, and the gears in his arms started mechanizing. He crossed the street and mosyed onto the empty lot, where he began to scour the ground for a hefty palm sized rock. He finally struck gold, or bedrock, so to speak, and bent over to pick up the rough gray piece of earth. A span of ten seconds passed as he stood with rock in hand, and vacant house in front. Could he possibly be contemplating the correctness or consequences of his future actions? No- of course not! This is clyde were speaking of here! The boy who single handedly ruined Miss Ghradel's wedding- broke two cookie jars, and lost one, black and white purebreed dalmation, in the span of two and a half weeks.
But boy could he pitch! And pitch he did- he pitched that rock straight into one of the house's decrepit old windows, resulting in a loud smash, and a satisfied smirk across clyde's face. His work was done there he figured, so he moved on, crossing back to the other side of the street, and continuing on down the sidewalk. Little did he know, (and oh how little he knew as it was,) he was being followed. Who was following Clyde, and for god's sake, why?! The only place following poor Clyde would get you is into a heap of trouble. This character that trailed our boy mis-wonder, was already quite acostomed to trouble though, and was out to do Clyde one better. You see, the house that Clyde thought was vacant, wasn't of course! It's sole shady resident was a four foot tall mischeif maker named Piptip. He was, as all good and true mischeif makers are, an Imp.
I wrote this just because, off the top of my head, as i was typing so if it dosnt make much in the way of sense, i apologize. But i think this is a great place to start. Comments appreciated!
There once was a little boy named clyde. He was a terrible little boy and he never listened to his parents. One day, clyde was walking home from school, thinking about perpetrating mischeif as always, when he passed by the old vacant house. He had always passed by this house before and never once did he think of it in an abject way. But today was a differnt day for clyde, as he stood and stared, and applied his tiny brain to the creative proccess that turns out trouble. it was near a minute before the gears in his head stoped moving, and the gears in his arms started mechanizing. He crossed the street and mosyed onto the empty lot, where he began to scour the ground for a hefty palm sized rock. He finally struck gold, or bedrock, so to speak, and bent over to pick up the rough gray piece of earth. A span of ten seconds passed as he stood with rock in hand, and vacant house in front. Could he possibly be contemplating the correctness or consequences of his future actions? No- of course not! This is clyde were speaking of here! The boy who single handedly ruined Miss Ghradel's wedding- broke two cookie jars, and lost one, black and white purebreed dalmation, in the span of two and a half weeks.
But boy could he pitch! And pitch he did- he pitched that rock straight into one of the house's decrepit old windows, resulting in a loud smash, and a satisfied smirk across clyde's face. His work was done there he figured, so he moved on, crossing back to the other side of the street, and continuing on down the sidewalk. Little did he know, (and oh how little he knew as it was,) he was being followed. Who was following Clyde, and for god's sake, why?! The only place following poor Clyde would get you is into a heap of trouble. This character that trailed our boy mis-wonder, was already quite acostomed to trouble though, and was out to do Clyde one better. You see, the house that Clyde thought was vacant, wasn't of course! It's sole shady resident was a four foot tall mischeif maker named Piptip. He was, as all good and true mischeif makers are, an Imp.