A True Story

Would anyone like to hear a story?

This is a True Story from when I was about five. I don't remember it at all, but my big sister says it happened, so I suppose it must've happened because she doesn't usually tell fibs.

A True Story

Once upon a time, I was five years old, and my big sister Mary was seven. We lived in a big house in Indiana. One day, our friends came over to play. There was a boy whose name I think was quite possibly Adam, and his little sister whose name I forget, so I'll call her Eve. Adam would usually play with Mary because he was older, and I would usually play with Eve.

On this particular day, Mary and Adam were playing grown-up games in the other room, while Eve and I were doing something else in my baby brother's room. Not that Mary thought she was more grown-up than me; I just always thought of her as a grown-up. Anyway, Mary and Adam decided to join me and Eve in my baby brother's room. We were looking for something. Mary, unless it was Adam, said: "What are you looking for?"
Then, Eve said: "I'm looking for my underwear."
Adam, unless it was Mary, said: "You lost your underwear?????"
Apparently, Eve couldn't remember how she had lost her underwear. Mary and Adam, being the wise grown-up seven year-olds to whom we looked up began helping us look for them.

 Unfortunately, Mr. Adam and Eve's Dad called from Downstairs that it was time to go home. So, we all went down. Eve complained that she didn't want to go home. This was very understandable to me, because it's very embarrassing to accidentally leave your underwear at a friend's house. To cheer her up, Mr. Adam and Eve's Dad lifted her up by her legs and held her upside down. But, unfortunately, Eve happened to be wearing a dress that day. So, her dress came down and she was very upset.

Five years later, we moved to California. We took every single item out of the house and put it into a truck and moved it to a different house, and the underwear never showed its face.

The End

Shopping for People

 I was in the school store today at my school (not meaning that the school belongs to me, just that I go there to learn stuff) and there was a big sign that had a picture of a kid on it and over the picture were the words "Bronco Kids in Store Today." Bronco's our mascot, by the way. So, fair warning, hide your children, because my people will come looking for them to sell in the student store at my school.

It's like a sign I saw outside of Old Navy once that said "Man Sale." I went in and the sale was a "buy one, get one free" sale. Although I don't know why you'd want two men. I suppose you could use one if you didn't like the first one, or you could give one to a friend. I didn't get any because none of them were British or Irish, but then they have to special order those from Europe, so they're more expensive.

Sleepy Time

Ok, nobody read my blog anymore because right now I have 3030 views and that's a very swag number.

I'm really stupid right now because it's almost 1 in the morning. Also, I wish I was brilliant at something. I'm pretty good at a lot of things, but I'm not brilliant at anything so I don't know what to do for a career and it's making me sad because it's almost 1 in the morning and I never had that tea I was going to have.

But on the plus side, my dad bought milk, so I can have some with my coffee tomorrow morning. Hooray! Plus I'm planning on making pancakes and school is starting soon so I can do something other than moan about not having anything to do and looking at adorable British men on pinterest.

My computer battery's dying now, so I need to go to bed and plug it in and brush my teeth and get in bed and turn on my Narnia audiobook so I can go to sleep. But I can't move, because my leg's asleep and I don't want to.

But it's time for bed as soon as I post another quote on my quote page.

Good night!

An Agatha Christie Poem

I just finished reading Agatha Christie's Five Little Pigs. 

And I'm bored. So here's a poem about it. Fair warning, it's rotten. 

SPOILER ALERT

Five Little Pigs by Agatha Christie

Poemed for you by Elizabeth

There was a girl of 21

who learned, perhaps too late in life, 

her father, painting in the sun, 

was killed by his beloved wife. 

The wife-her name was Caroline-

was sent to prison that same year

to pay for her supposed crime

of poisoning her husband's beer. 

But whilst in jail, she quickly wrote

her innocence upon a page

and sent her daughter that same note

to be opened when she came of age. 

The daughter-Carla she was called-

determined that it was the truth

and though so many were appalled, 

she asked that Poirot find the proof. 

So Poirot went about his way, 

pondering the mystery

and while he pondered, he would say, 

"It's all about psychology." 

He thought, then, he would go and ask

each witness of the dreadful crime

and put each one of them to the task

of writing what happened at the time. 

The first one's name was Phillip Blake

the friend of Amyas-the dead. 

He had no pity for the sake

of Caroline, but hate instead. 

The next was Meredith, a man

who dabbled in the art of herbs

With deadly brews in jars and cans

but he was gentle as a bird. 

The third was Elsa, cool and calm

who had been modeling that day 

for Amyas, who painted long

before he died beneath her gaze. 

The fourth one was a governess, 

Miss Williams is what she was called. 

She doubted Caroline's innocence 

But did not blame her, not at all. 

Then Angela was the last one, 

the half-sister of Caroline

who-when they both were very young-

had hurt and scarred her for all time. 

Then all but for the last witness 

said "Oh, she did it. That I know."

But Angela, she did protest

because she loved her sister so. 

Then Poirot learned what Elsa did

 that had angered Caroline

she flirted much with Amyas 

and said "This man will soon be mine." 

So Caroline, all but one said,

she spiked her husbands daily beer. 

She knew that he would soon be dead

while he was painting Elsa Greer. 

Miss Williams saw Caroline

when through the hedges she did glimpse

put the bottle in the dead man's hand

to best secure his fingerprints. 

Then Caroline said "suicide!"

As everyone came to the scene

but "murder!" Elsa Greer had cried

And that's exactly what it seemed. 

But Poirot, he thought differently, 

as the evidence went through his brain

he thought of the psychology 

and which one had the most to gain. 

And then he said, "It's Elsa Greer!

She poisoned Amyas that day, 

she put some coniine in his beer

because he told his wife he'd stay!"

Then Elsa was sent off to jail

and everyone lived happily

and Poirot went to Carla Crale

and together, they had buns for tea. 

The End. 

I'm sorry, I have to say this because it's been bothering me. 

Being nice to somebody isn't the same thing as letting him do something that you believe is wrong. And if he does do something you believe is wrong, it doesn't mean you think he's going to hell. 

And I'm really grateful that I have both a mom and a dad. 

Interpret that how you like, I'm not saying anything else and I don't mean to piss anyone off. 

Time for more coffee. Cheerio!

A Murder Mystery

I'm bored.

So,

here's a murder mystery.

Once upon a time, there was a great detective named Detective Inspector Major Brains. DIM Brains was the greatest detective in all of California. He was, in fact, better than everybody else in California. One day, a woman came into the Police Station crying and sobbing something about a Missing Husband named Sir Lord Count du Fuss. The Countess du Fuss said that her husband had gone out to walk the dog two days ago, and neither he nor the dog had shown his face, or any other part of his body for that matter. To comfort her, Brains offered her a chicken sandwich, which she didn't like, so she threw it into the recycle bin. Remember this, O Best Beloved, because it is important.

After the Countess du Fuss had calmed down, Brains offered to search her home for clues as to where the Count du Fuss might be. When they arrived to the Count du Fuss's estate, Brains questioned the butler, the maid, the housekeeper, the cook, and the gardener as to his whereabouts. Each denied that he had seen the Count since he went out to walk the dog. Brains then searched the house, and found nothing except for everything that was inside the house. Then he proceeded to search the grounds. When he reached the curb where the trash bins were waiting to be emptied, he smelled a terrible smell, a smell that could only be produced by the remains of the rotting dead body of the Count du Fuss and his dog.

Brains opened the trash bin, but the Count was not inside. He then opened the recycle bin, and there was the Count, hacked into pieces with his own chainsaw. Brains knew at once who it must be, and he pointed an accusatory finger at the Countess du Fuss. The Countess was arrested and spent the rest of her life in prison. The police asked Brains how he knew it was the Countess. But all Brains would say was, "A chicken sandwich is not recyclable. And neither is a dead body."

The End

How To Murder People

My family and I have been watching a lot of detective shows lately, and we decided it would be a good idea to have a plan for a perfect crime, just in case we need to murder somebody. I talked about it with my brother Thomas.

Me: If you murdered somebody, how would you do it?

Thomas............I'd stab a guy in a hot tub with an icicle.

Me: Oh! Yeah, so then there's no murder weapon and no fingerprints! Brilliant!

Thomas: Thank you.

Me: Except if it's the right weather to be outside in a hot tub, it's probably not the right weather for icicles.

Thomas: Yeah....but you could keep one in the freezer, and then just keep it hidden while you're on your way to the hot tub.

So that's an idea. Here's another one.

Pretend that I'm at a dinner party with Bob, Ted, and Phil. I want to kill Ted, because he's a moron. We're having Dole salad for an appetizer. I sprinkle some sort of biological toxins on all of our servings, but I put enough on Ted's to kill him. The rest of us will get sick, but we won't die. Ted dies, and the rest of us get sick and it turns out that we all of us ate the same thing (Dole salad). So therefore, it must be food poisoning. Since Ted was my very best favorite pal in the whole wide world, I'm distraught by his death and I sue Dole for accidentally killing him and win loads of money. Then I destroy the biological toxin and hide the remains so that nobody can find it. Everybody's happy and there's jam for tea.

Idea #2:

There's a hill near our house that overlooks the neighborhood. Let's say I want to kill my hypothetical neighbor Frank. In this scenario, I'm an Evil Scientist, so I've created lava that can be controlled via remote control. So, I go up to the hill, dig a ginormous hole, and fill the hole with the remote control lava. Then, I put video cameras all over the neighborhood, go to a nearby hotel with the remote control, and rig up the TV so that I can see the whole neighborhood. When Frank is in the optimum position, I push the detonator button on the remote control which activates the volcano, and the lava runs down the hill. With the video cameras, I can see wherever Frank is running, so I can use the remote control to make the lava follow him, catch up to him, and kill him. Later on, geologists come and say "Well, whatdyou know, that hill's been a volcano this whole time and we never knew it. Oh well. Poor Frank."

If I'm an Evil Scientist, I could probably do the same thing with a twister. I could even make a sharknado. Whatever I do, I'd have to destroy all my plans and equipment so that nobody suspects me, but I'm rich, so I can just move to Australia and buy more.

I just decided, I'm going to be a murder mystery writer and write a book about a man trying to kill his Siamese twin brother. That would be awkward. If they're joined at the chest, he'd have to kill himself, but that's all right because it eliminates him as a suspect. But if they're joined at the hip or something, he could just kill his brother, steal his brother's money and then blame it on a burglar, after wiping all his fingerprints off of everything.