Lipstick Love

A tragic tale about a man who falls in love with the possessor of a certain pink lipstick, the journey he goes on to find her, and the interesting characters he meets along his way. Strange? Of course! Suspenseful? Of course! Exciting? Of course! Romantic? Of course!Complete and total nonsense?!? Of course!!! P.S. This story must be read upwards. So start with the entry at the bottom and work you way up! Thank you!

Sunday, June 04, 2006

The Wobbly Woods

As Chaufe ventured out into the Wobbly Woods, she began to notice a horrid stench. "I smell a horrid stench." Chaufe announced to the unsuspecting wood. The unsuspecting wood rustled with the rustling of the birds and Chaufe suddenly felt very alone. She felt alone because she was surrounded by strange animals that wanted to eat her. "HELP!" she cried, yet realized no help would come. Chaufe thought fast and grabbed the closest leaf she could get her hands on and scribbled out with a dung stick a message to her beloved Angry Snail. "Help, it's me, Chaufe. Animals are going to eat me. Hurry" She wrote and attached the note to the leg of the nearest pigeon. The pigeon fluttered out of sight and Chaufe was very scared. Meanwhile, the Angry Snail was watching from the watchtower and notice the little grey dot in the sky. "Hello" he growled and the pigeon dropped the note in the tower. After reading Chaufe's messages. Angry Snail leaped out of the tower and slowly slimed all the way down. Two hours later he reached the bottom, mountain a white stallian and rode off into the Wobbly Wood. Could he save Chaufe in time!?

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Poetry

Katchka crept into the house after dark. The pitch black hall wasn’t as pitch black as you might think. There was a nightlight. The nightlight that led to the stairs glowed brighter than the sun. Katchka gazed at the nightlight for a little too long and he became dizzy. A memory of long ago came back to him. “Katchka,” said a younger Dorothy (in black and white, because this is a memory), “Don’t stare at the nightlight for too long, you’ll go blind.” She warned. So Katchka always tried to keep his distance. After the memory, he went upstairs and into his own room. To his surprise, Charles’s notebook was in his room. Did you know Charles kept a notebook the whole time? Because I didn’t! Total surprise! But then, Charles is a surprising fellow. Katchka picked up the book and opened it cautiously. “I vunder eef eet ees a zecret diary,” He vundered…er…………...
wondered. So he opened it anyway and to his utter surprise found not diary entries, but poems, handwritten by Charles himself. Original poems. Charles would never plagiarize.
Thus, he read the poems.

MSN

Sign in.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Impatience.
Frustration.
Anger.
Pure Agony.
Surprise!
Signed in.
Look.
Seek.
No one online.
Sadness.
Deep mourning.
Wallowing in self pity.
Shame.
Disappointment.
No friends.
Loner.
Wait for friends.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Bored.
Bored as heck.
Jaded.
Sign off.

“So true, so true,” Katchka shook his head.

Glue

Elmer’s is my only friend.
Opaque milky white holds me together.
Gripping, not forceful.
Flexible, unlike superglue.
Superglue binds,
Holds,
Never let’s go!
RIP!
OUCH!
That smarts.
Bloody fingers.
Pain that lingers.
Never forgets.

A tear streamed down Katchka’s cheek. “I know exactly how hee feelz,” he sobbed. At that moment, Charles walked into the room. Katchka jumped! “Charlez, vhy, I deedn’t know zees vas yourz, I juzt read a leetle, don’t vorry,” Katchka assured him. Charles just stood there silently. “Charlz?” Katchka said, “Alloooo?” Charles did not move. “Oh, you zleep valk, eh?” Katchka observed once more. “Yez, I tink eet’s time vee go to bed, eh?” Charles nodded, sleepily and turned around and went back to his own room. Katchka closed the notebook and went to sleep.

Pwoof!

Pwoof! A burst of white powder exploded from Katchka’s hand as he blocked a very deadly snowball. Charles’s jaw dropped down to the snow-covered ground out of sheer amazement. “Kerplunk!” went his jaw. “Now,” Katchka said, in a deep Arnold Schwarzenegger-like voice. “Vhen blocking snowballz you must alvays be in zhe snowball blocking stance. An SBB, we like to zay vor short, must be in zhe stance or else he vill be terminated.” Katchka explained, gravely. “Zo!” He shouted. “Stand vith your legz apart and bend your kneez slightly. Focuz on the znowball and remember you own zhe znowball, zhe znowball doez not own you. Clear?” “Clear!” Charles responded, excitedly. “Now raize your armz zo dat your elbowz are right at zhe level of your chest but keep zhem far avay from your chest or you vill have trouble moving.” He instructed. Charles did just that, and Katchka approved. “Trow!” Katchka shouted with all of his shouting might. A very shocked Charles leaped up in the air, but got back into SBB stance quickly because a very deadly snowball was heading towards him at that very moment. “Block!” Katchka yelled, this time to Charles. Charles kept his right hand flat and strong and smacked that snowball with all of his smacking might when the snowball got just close enough to smack. Pwoof! He made it through his first snowball. “Trow!” Katchka shouted again, and another very deadly snowball came zooming at Charles. Once again he firmed his right hand and smacked the snowball! Once again, a ‘Pwoof!’ echoed in the air. “Trow!” This time Charles switched sides; he jumped and twisted his body so that his left leg stood firmly in the back and to the side of his right leg. This time, he firmed his left hand and smacked the snowball just as hard as the last two times. Pwoof! “Ok, enough!” Katchka ordered. “Tired yet?” He asked as Charles panted. “Yes,” he gasped, “Who was throwing the snowballs?” “Vell, Alexiro, of courze. Who do you tink?” He asked, jokingly. Charles shook his head and went to bed, but before he actually went to bed, he said, “I’m going to bed.”

Stuffage Happens

The Angry Snail heaved a sigh of utter despondence and sludged down to the kitchen where he saw Pinky leaning against the counter and stuffing her face full of Chaufe’s Triple Dipple Chocolate Chip cookies. “Oh Angry Snail,” she said after she swallowed. “I have something urgent to tell you. You know that pink lipstick that was stolen?” “Yes,” The Angry Snail nodded. “Well,” She said. “I know who has it. Apparently, a man by the name of Charles Pickleman has my lipstick. Rumor has it that he is trying to return it out of the goodness of his heart, but I don’t believe it. Why would he return such a beautiful shade of pink lipstick without having a reason to return it?” She asked. “Well, I surely do not know.” The Snail replied. “Pinky? Was it the low, growly voice that gave you this information?” “Why yes. As a matter of fact, it was the low, growly voice that told me.” “I see.” The Snail nodded. “Pinky? What is the low, growly voice?” He asked, somewhat frightened. “Well,” Pinky thought. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what it is. It’s just there. Somehow it gathers this information and tells me everything for no reason whatsoever. Odd, but I like it because I don’t have to pay him.” She explained. “Oh, alright.” He smiled, assured. “Snail, I want you to be on the look out for Charles Pickleman.” She said. “And if he comes so much as 10 feet near this castle, get the ‘B.S.T.s’ ready, do you understand?” She said, forcefully. “Yes! Of course! Always on the look out, Pinky! But must we use the B.S.T.s?” He asked timidly. “Even I am frightened of them.” “Yes! We must use the B.S.T.s. What else are they good for?” She smiled. “Alright, alright!” He said, as he sludged to his lookout tower so that he could write Chaufe some love letters.

Sunday, January 30, 2005

"Allo, Mudder."

“Katchka!” Dorothy screamed, as a very ugly man walked through the front door. She ran up to him and hugged him around the waist, for that is as high as she could reach. “Allo, mudder.” He said in a very thick Bulgarian accent. After Katchka came inside the house, a very handsome man sneaked, with all of his sneaking might, into the house and shut the door. “Alexiro!” She shouted again and hugged his waist as well. “Allo, Ms. Mikatova. Zo gud to zee you.” The handsome boy said. “Yes, it’s good to see the both of you safe and well.” She chuckled. “This is my good friend, Charles.” She introduced him to the two men. “Nize to met you.” Katchka said, smiling. “You too.” Charles returned the smile, and after they all shook hands, they sat down in the parlor for a chat. “So how was training, boys?” Dorothy inquired. “Eet vuz gud, mum. Vee deed zo much znowball blocking, I tought my ‘andz vould fall off.” He laughed. “Yez, and I trew zo many znowballs, I tought my armz vould break.” Alexiro added. “Well, that’s wonderful! Dorothy smiled while she poured them each a hot cup of tea. “Would you three lads like some cream and sugar for your tea?” She asked. They all nodded and looked at each other. “Zo, ‘ow do you know my mutter?” Katchka asked Charles. “Well, actually, last night my plane crashed on the other side of that apple orchard yonder. I needed a place to stay and your mother was kind enough to take me in.” Charles explained. “Yez, I ‘ave a vonderful mudder.” Katchka said. “Oh Katchka.” Dorothy giggled. “Say now, would you boys maybe give Charles here some snowball blocking and throwing lessons? I think it would do him good around this area so that he doesn’t get hurt. Plus it’s just a good thing to know how to do.” She said. “Uv Courze.” Alexiro said. “Vell, Ve might az vell go now. Zince ve’re already bundled up and everyting.” He said. “Yez, let’z go now.” Katchka agreed. So, Charles bundled up and joined the two men outside.

A Cough, An I Love You, and A Sweet Goodbye

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Chaufe wailed. “Not FIRED!!!” “Yes! Fired!” Pinky grinned and evil grin. She laughed an evil laugh. She laughed so hard she started to cough and cough and cough until she passed out and fell onto the kitchen floor. It sounded somewhat like this..Muahahahahahaha…muahahahhahaa…mua*cough* haha*cough* hahah*cough cough cough* ha *cough* hah*cough* haaaaaaa *smack* The smack part is when she hit the kitchen floor. Yes. That’s what it was like. Chaufe sadly trudged up the stairs and into her room to pack her things. She was in the middle of humming a Faith Hill song when all of a sudden there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” She sighed. It was the Angry Snail. “Chaufe, I heard what happened. I’m terribly sorry.” He said, gloomily. “That’s alright Snail, I kind of want to go home. I’m tired of living here.” She smiled, sadly. “Snail?” She said “I just want to tell you something before I go. I just want to say I love you. You’re the sweetest Snail a girl could know.” She said. “Oh Chaufe! I love you too!” He shouted in a not as growly as usual voice. “Want to get married? That way we can move to Texas together!” “Sure!” She said. “But I have to go now. I’ll tell you what. Let me go on a little trip down through the woods, just so I can have some “me” time. When I get lost, because there’s no doubt I will, I’ll send you a letter and you can come find me. Then we can move to Texas. Sound good?” “Sure does!” He said very enthusiastically. “Great! Well, Snail,” She said as she gathered up her belongings. “I’ll be seein’ ya.” “Bye Chaufe!” “Bye Snail!” And with that, Chaufe was on the road again. Snail gazed out her bedroom window and watched her venture out into the Wobbly Woods.

A Surprise

Meanwhile, back at the castle, Chefy and the Angry Snail were discussing the low, growly voice in the kitchen. “So, what about that low, growly voice?” the Angry Snail asked Chefy. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never seen Pinky so suspicious before. I wonder what’s going on.” She said. “Yea, me too.” He nodded in agreement. “Hey Snail?” Chefy said timidly. “Yea?” was his gruff response. “Well, there’s something I need to tell you.” She said shyly. “Ok. What is it?” he said, a little more nicely. “Well, my name isn’t Chefy.” She confessed. “WHAT!?” He said, completely aghast. “Yes, my name is really Chaufe. It’s French.” She admitted. “I can’t believe it! And I thought your name was Chefy all this time. Hmph! Why did you change your name?” He wondered. “Well, I never did change it. Pinky just couldn’t pronounce Chaufe when she had her speech impediment.” She said. “Well, she got that fixed. Why does she still call you Chefy then?” he asked. “Well, the name just stuck, so I never bothered her about it. And it doesn’t really bother me. So I just forgot about it.” She said. “I see. Well, might I call you Chaufe now?” he asked. “Why, of course. I was hoping you would because you see, Angry Snail, I’m in love with yo--” BANG! The kitchen door slammed open right in the middle of the word “you” and Chaufe never got to finish her sentence. Why? Because Pinky stood in the kitchen doorway glaring at the two of them. “Well, hello hello.” Pinky said, slowly stepping in to the kitchen. “Err..hello.” Snail growled. “Might I have a word with you?” Pinky requested, looking directly at Chaufe. “Sure.” Chaufe said, and the Angry Snail left the room. “You know that pink lipstick you gave me last week? The one that you found after it fell out of my man bag?” She said. “Yes, I found it on the staircase.” Chaufe smiled. “Well, it’s not the same one!” Pinky snapped. “You bought a new one!” “What?” She asked innocently. “I couldn’t have done that. I really did find it on the staircase.” “No you didn’t! My real pink lipstick tube was found in the man bag of someone named Charles. My lipstick has been lipsticknapped!” “Now Pinky, I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.” Chaufe assured her. “Yes, I’m sure there is.” Pinky smiled a sticky sweet smile. “And until we find that ‘reasonable explanation’, you’re fired!”

Saturday, January 29, 2005

Bulgarian Snowball Fighting

“Dorothy? Who are the people in the pictures on the walls of your staircase?” Charles asked, inquisitively. “Well, I’m in all of the pictures. And it’s not that I’m vain or anything. I just happened to be in all of the pictures with my son, Katchka and his friend Alexiro. The ugly boy is my son. The good looking boy is his friend.” She said. “Why is your son so ugly? You’re not, by any means, ugly.” Charles wondered. “Well, Katchka gets his looks from his father, who was also a very ugly man. You might have seen a picture of us together when we were both quite young. Yes, he was a very sweet man; very sweet, but very ugly. Katchka is the same.” She said, “But Katchka never knew his father. The poor man died in a Bulgarian snowball fighting competition only a month before Katchka was born.” She sighed, with a mournful look on her face. “I’m sorry, but what is a Bulgarian snowball fight?” Charles was curious to know, “Is it any different from an American snowball fight?” Dorothy laughed. “Quite different, my dear boy. You see, here in America, boys and girls throw snowballs for fun, like it’s a game. However, in Bulgaria, the good looking boys throw snowballs at the ugly boys to kill. The good looking boys are very muscular and have very good aim. You could be going on a nice walk in the snow one day, when all of a sudden a snowball whizzes at you. If you are not well trained, the snowball could hit you square in the face and kill you. The ugly boys are always the target. I don’t know why that is, but that’s how’s it’s been for centuries. So, parents of the ugly boys must get their sons into training as soon as they turn one year old, so that they can protect themselves from the snowball throwers. It is an ancient technique, but snowball fighting is still as deadly today as it ever was.” Charles was stunned. “I know I’m not the best looking fellow,” he said. “But would they ever try to kill me?” Dorothy laughed once more. “No, no,” she assured him. “They only target ugly Bulgarian boys. So there’s nothing to worry about.” Charles gave a sigh of relief and glanced at the pictures on the wall. “Wait a minute.” He said, “How can Katchka be friends with Alexiro if Alexiro is so good looking?” He wondered. “Oh,” Dorothy smiled. “Alexiro’s parents and I were good, good friends before either of them were born. Alexiro was sort of an oddity in his family. All of his family was so hideous, and then here he comes along all beautiful and good looking. The family didn’t know what to do as far as training went. So, they ended up sending him to the snowball throwing retreats and we have to keep their friendship a secret. If the other good looking boys find out, they’re sure to kill Alexiro AND Katchka. So, Alexiro pretends to be a mean snowball thrower, but he would never actually try to kill anyone, because all of his friends are ugly, you see. Every now and then, however, he finds himself chucking snowballs at his ugly friends. It’s just his nature. It’s a very strange and frightening situation, but we must be careful. So, you’d best keep your mouth shut as well, alright?” She looked Charles right in the eye. “Yes, Ma’am!” Charles said very enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.” He smiled. “Good. Now go get washed up. Katchka will be here any minute now. You two will get along just fine, you know.”

Rupert, Bruce, and A Very Yummy Breakfast

Charles waltzed with all of his waltzing might into the kitchen. Dorothy was standing on her tip toes trying to reach the frying pan to flip a piece of bacon. “Good morning!” She said, gleefully. “Would you mind helping me flip this bacon?” She asked with a smile. “Well, yes, ma’am. I do mind. You see, I don’t cook. I’ve been eating cold beans for 30 years, you see.” “Oh I see.” She said, a little less gleefully. “Well, then hand me that plate.” He did just that and watched her flip the bacon, eggs, and potatoes onto the plate. “The biscuits are over there.” She said, pointing to her right. Charles ate and ate and ate and ate until his stomach hurt. “This is probably the best thing I have ever eaten in my whole life!” He shouted. “Thank you so much, Dorothy. This was the best breakfast EVER!” He sat back in his chair and patted his pudgy belly. “So what are you planning on naming your sparrow friends?” She inquired. “I have to name them?” He asked, puzzled. “Well, of course. How would you like to be called “human” all the time? It’s much better to be called Charles, you know, or in my case, Dorothy.” She smiled.“I supposed you’re right. But what would I name them?” He wondered. “How about Rupert and Bruce? Those are good wholesome names.” She suggested. “Why yes! I love those names!” Charles announced. And thus, the sparrows were dubbed Rupert and Bruce.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

Potato Scented Deodorant? Hmmm....

Charles woke up to the warm aroma of biscuits, eggs, potatoes, and bacon, which are probably some of the most delicious smells in the world, however, I highly doubt that those scents would make a good candle, deodorant, or any type of bath product. Charles went into the bathroom and washed up for breakfast. He also washed the sparrows and put ribbons around their necks so they would at least look somewhat presentable. As, he stepped down the stairs, he noticed all of the pictures hanging on the walls. The first picture he spied with his little eye was a picture of Dorothy with a young man who was in fact, quite the ugliest young man Charles had ever seen. The next picture contained Dorothy once more and the same hideous young man with a fairly good looking young lad. Most all of the pictures from there were just Dorothy and the unattractive boy, but there was one picture of a young and quite beautiful Dorothy with a very ugly man who Charles assumed to be her husband. But why wasn’t he in any of the other pictures? That was a question that would be answered soon enough!

Dorothy

“Please, do come in.” She said, stepping back. He slowly inched his way in the front door of her house as she switched on the hall light. When he first saw her, he wasn’t quite sure what he thought of her. She was older, in her 60’s, he guessed. She wore a pair of sparkly spectacles that rested on her petite nose, and a pair of shiny blue eyes peered out from behind the lenses. Her face was a powder white and her hair was even whiter. So white that it looked like a soft blanket of snow on her head that was tied up in a loose bun. She was extremely tiny, only coming up to about Charles’s waist and she was extremely plump. “You look awful!” She gasped as she looked Charles over. “What happened to you?” “Well,” Charles began, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the sparrows. “These sparrows here shot right through one of my airplane wings and sent me crashing down to the ground. Luckily, they fell into my back seat and helped me find a parachute.” “Oh my,” Dorothy gasped. “That’s horrible. Are any of you hurt?” She asked. “I don’t think so.” Charles muttered looking himself up and down in a mirror across the hall, and checking the sparrows for injuries as well. “But I’m terribly tired. Might I stay here for the night? I promise I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” He assured her. “Well of course!” She smiled. “But must you leave first thing in the morning? I really think you should stay for breakfast so you won’t have to go on an empty stomach. Also, my son Katchka and his friend Alexiro will be coming home tomorrow from a special retreat and I’d love for you to meet them.” Such an offer Charles could not bear to refuse, so Dorothy showed him to the guest bedroom, got him a warm cup of tea and a little late night snack, and they both dreamed lovely dreams until the next morning.

ZAP!

Charles ran! He ran with all of his running might! The two small sparrows kept quite still as Charles moved swiftly through the orchard of apple trees. As they neared the end of the orchard, there stood a small farm house. It was painted white with a white picket fence surrounding their small, but beautiful garden. It was almost pitch black outside by this time and Charles had no where to go, so he took a chance and opened the small fence door. A light was on inside of the house, so someone was probably home and would hopefully be nice enough to take him in for the night. Charles walked along the stone path and up a few small white steps onto the porch. He knocked and waited patiently, but no one came. He knocked again, but no one came. He knocked once more, but no one came. He did not give up. Why didn’t he ring the doorbell? Well, I know why. Charles had the worst fear of doorbells. He was so afraid that when he rang one, it would electrocute him and he would die. So, he had always refused to ring one. He kept knocking, but still, no one would answer. He was starting to become quite discouraged when he noticed the little light inside of the doorbell. He thought about ringing it, but the thought of being electrocuted frightened him so badly that the hair on his neck began to stand up. Finally, he gave in and reached for the doorbell. He pushed it. Ding Dong. It didn’t zap him. Feeling a bit better he rang it once more. ZAP! That time it did. A huge shock went through him and he jumped! He was so incredibly furious that he through down his blue cap and stomped on it. Then, he heard a funny noise, as if someone was giggling. It grew louder and louder. Charles then realized that there had been someone inside watching him. Waiting for him to ring that doorbell and they were laughing at him! He was even more furious than before and picked up his hat and turned around. As he stomped furiously down he steps and back through the garden, the door to the house opened and a small voice said, “Wait! Wait! Come back! I was only playing.” Charles stopped and turned around slowly. He peered into the dark house and saw the silhouette of a short, plump figure in a dark doorway. “Why’d you do that? Do you realize how horribly afraid I am of doorbells?” He questioned the figure, quite distraught. “Well, no,” She answered, quite innocently. “But I do that to everyone. It was only for a bit of fun. Please come in. I won’t do it again.” Charles stared at the dark doorway for a moment. Slowly, hesitantly he walked back up the steps and onto the porch. “What’s your name?” She asked in a small, timid, but very, very curious voice. “Charles. Charles Pickleman.” He answered, gruffly. “Why that’s a lovely name. I’m Dorothy, Dorothy Mikatova.”

Saturday, January 08, 2005

Low, Growly Voice

Meanwhile, back at the castle, Pinky decided to make a trip down into the dungeon. She jumped, every other step, down four flights of stairs and ended up in a not so nice place. The dungeon was most like any dungeon: cold, dark, damp, and smelly. And this was mostly because the angry snail had to mop the floors. It had rats, many rats scurrying about looking hopelessly for some source of food. The dungeon was empty except for the angry snail, who was busy mopping. There were no prisoners because Pinky never really had a reason to take prisoners, but she did like to keep the dungeon “tidy” (or at least what she thought was tidy), just in case. “Angry Snail, would you please leave and take your mop with you?” She asked nicely. “Well, ma’am, I’m not quite done with the floors. Could you wait until I’m finished?” He growled. “NO!” She shouted, her face turned purple instantly. “This will not wait! Leave immediately!” With that, the angry snail let out a little squeal and leapt up in the air. He hurriedly grabbed his mop and began to sludge up the flight of stairs, closing the dungeon door behind him with a slam! On his way up, he stopped. He stopped because he heard voices, more than one voice, when there should have only been one: Pinky’s. He stood very quietly in the stairwell and listened with all of his listening might. “Angry Snail, what are you doing?” Chefy asked with a giggle as she walked down the stairs towards him. “Shh!” He hissed. “Listen!” Chefy leaned forward towards the dungeon door and listened closely. Exact words could not be distinguished from the side of the dungeon door which Chefy and Angry Snail stood, but they could here mumblings. The higher pitched mumbling was obviously Pinky’s, but there was another mumbling, a very low, growly voice that sounded like it didn’t belong there. There was a loud clank in the stairwell and Angry Snail realized he had dropped his mop. The voices stopped and the dungeon door slowly began to creek open. Pinky poked her head out of the door and saw the mop laying at the bottom of the stairs and a long trail of slime that curved around the corner and out of sight.

Thursday, January 06, 2005


Charles's plane as it nose dives into the orchard. Sadly, even though Charles and the sparrows survived, the plane didn't.  Posted by Hello

Mighty Powerful Sparrows

Charles stood up out of the dust and brushed himself off. It took him 4 hours to push the heavy plane out from the pile of wood and frightened chickens, but he had not given up. He was determined to return that lipstick. So he let the cow loose and hopped into the cockpit once more. This time, however, it was a success. The plane leapt off of the ground and flew with no problems whatsoever towards the Big Mountain.


Fear welled up inside of Charles when he neared the Big Mountain for he had never been to the other side. He had never seen what lay beyond the Big Mountain. He had always led a very sheltered life and hadn’t ever been father than Chickenton, the town closest to his house. That small town consisted of a barber shop, a gas station for those lucky enough to own cars, a small grocery store and a park. Those that didn’t have a job in Chickenton were either farmers or received money in the mail from an anonymous person. No one ever made a fuss over who this anonymous person was, they were thankful just to get the money. Charles was one of the people who received money in the mail, but all he could ever afford was beans. After a while he got sick of beans, but it kept him alive and that was good enough for him. The reason why the Big Mountain scared the crap out of Charles was that it had so many shadows. Charles had an immense fear of shadows. He was afraid of his own shadow! Let alone the thousands that were cast by the jagged edges of the Big Mountain. He shuddered as he crossed over the top of the Big Mountain and gave a sigh of relief when he had gotten over. It was getting dark and Charles didn’t know how to land the plane so he was faced with a dilemma. Should he crash the plane, which was the only thing he could do to get it to land, or should he just keep flying all night. If he kept flying all night, who knows where he’d end up. He was still pondering what to do when a sparrow answered his question for him. Two sparrows in fact. They flew right into the right wing, puncturing it and almost ripping it off with the force of their collision. The plane lost altitude fast and was making a nose dive toward an orchard of apple trees far below. Charles was panicking! He didn’t know what to do! He looked in the back of the plane search for something! Some object of safety! All he found was an old coke can and a pair of rusty tweezers when all of a sudden, one of the sparrows that had fallen into the back seat found a parachute under the cushion of the seat. Charles put the sparrows in his pocket, strapped the parachute on and jumped! He made it just in time to pull the parachute out and float down safely into the grove of apple trees. The plane, however, did not survive. It came down with a huge bang and blew up, lighting up the sky with its glowing flames and setting 7 trees on fire. Charles heard angry voices coming from the other side of the crash site and ran for it, nestling the sparrows in his arms as he ran.



You may think this is Jed Clampet from the Beverly Hillbillies, but you're totally wrong!! This is Charles. Good Ol' Charles! Posted by Hello

The Discovery in that Desperate Moment Posted by Hello

Representing the love Chefy has for the Angry Snail. Awwwwwww. Posted by Hello

One of these cows is the cow that got caught on the airplane...I'm almost positive it's the one behind the "Mor" sign, because his tail is kind of long. Posted by Hello

The Wicked Pink Princess!! Posted by Hello