Archive for December, 2013


THE STORY: “One More!”
Both Deer and Doggie would not let Mum go, until she read them ‘One More’ bedtime story. After long, hard days, however exhausted Sophie was, she looked forward to ‘cuddle-n-read’ time, with her two favorite creatures on the planet.

Together the three snuggled. Sophie “read” the storybooks, saved from her own childhood. But she took liberties.
Sophie made the stories, well, a bit more, ‘critter-friendly.’

Like that horrid story about Little Red Riding Hood. At the end of Sophie’s version, Little Red is saved by the Big Wolf, from the BAD, evil, Grandma. (Doggie’s favorite.)

In Sophie’s version of “Bambi”, Bambi’s mommy, together with Thumper’s mommy, stomps the livin’ crap out of the mean, old hunter. (Guess who likes THAT one the best!)

Before she knew it, Sophie heard snoring.
Soon enough Sophie was sleeping, too. Nighty-night! ๐Ÿ™‚




“Alice Wondered. Her most recent antics–playing tricks on Maid and Cook–landed her in a bit of trouble.

She was forced to endure the next two days indoors, locked in her room. Why, she was not permitted out, even to eat! Once a day, Maid would fetch her chamber pot, exchange the waste-filled with clean, also bring her a bowl of warm, soapy water, with which to freshen herself.

Cook too, would come around, with meager tidbits: Breakfast. Lunch. Supper.

Alice hadn’t meant harm to Cook or Maid. Not really.

The girl was simply bored and alone. Alone with her imagination, a room full of toys and trinkets her parents had given her from their frivolous excursions about the globe.

What she wanted, was a brother or sister…or somebody…to share time passing. She was going mad, she just knew it. When she locked Cook in the hen house, she thought it was funny. Cook did not. The old woman may have forgiven Alice, except Alice’s sense of perception and time was not right. She had forgotten Cook in the hen house, as she moved on to the next great idea inside her head. Alice was so easily distracted!

Maid may have forgiven Alice, too. Except that the girl had gone just too far, snooping in her maid’s quarters, amusing herself with Maid’s diary. Maid had written very personal things in that journal. Things she wished no one to discover. Especially Alice’s parents. Oh! If they discovered the dowdy maid’s feelings towards the master of the house…what would she do? Where would she ever find work and security?

In her room, alone with…things…Alice Wondered.
Her favorite companion, a rather funny toy, a stuffed bunny whose expression remained quizzical at all times, seemed to wonder, too. Alice was certain both Rabbit and she, would be happier down a rabbit hole, than be here.

See: http://serendip.brynmawr.ed…

THE STORY: “When Merrie Melodies made the 1954 short film, “Baby Buggy Bunny”, (directed by Merrie Melodies’ very own Chuck Jones)… it was not without controversy. The idea behind the character, “Babyface” Finster, a dwarf gangster, concocted by writer, Michael Maltese, was based upon the actual gangster, “Baby Face” Nelson. Baby Face Finster, the animated, pint-sized ruffian, was inspired by Nelson. But Finster resembled a lesser-known fella (pictured above, to the left of a robust-looking chicken.) The man next to the chicken, appears to be a child, is not a child. The man is none other than chain-smoking Maximus Glotfelty, aka “Sinister Max.” Before Max became thug to be reckoned-with, he spent his youth with sideshows and fair circuits. This photograph was a promotional, advertising the world’s smallest man, who was billeted as “No Bigger than a Rooster.” Sinister Max died at the tender age of 29, stabbed a a rigged cock fight in the Bronx. He remains immortal, along with Baby Face Nelson, as Babyface Finster, in cinematic archives of Merrie Melodies. ๐Ÿ™‚ ________________________________________________________________________ pin From Eleanor T. SEE:

THE STORY: “Some people suffer from phobias. This particular group, comprised mostly of children, were deathly afraid of…rabbits. Fuzzy, wuzzy, cute lil’ cottontailed bunnies, of all things. Fear of Bunnies–known clinically as “Laporitphobia” is no small hurdle to leap! This is a group photograph of kids whom famed psychologist, John B. Watson, successfully managed to condition responses of most frightful apprehensions of bunny rabbits. Here is an example of one of the many attempts his youthful subjects were forced to endure, as Watson tried to undo the fear he instilled. While some of the children did manage to recover, at least four of the kids died from self-poisoning. It is rumored the last words of one dying subject (whose first name was Elmer, “test subject number three”) was, “Kill The Rabbit!” _______________________________________________________________________ Pinned by friend Eleanor T. …Thanks! See Rabbit Phobia, here:

THE STORY: “Once upon a daytime, dreary, With nothing to do, and feeling bleary, Eddie entertained himself with father’s prized buck horns; With camera remotely snapping, Fireplace snap-crackling, A raven flew inside, And alit on chair’s back-fore… Sheer thrills replaced his Bore! BUT: The lad was not to tinker–with trophy-horns, (the little stinker!), Or play with father’s camera, for which punishment was sure– The bird did fly away, cawing “You’ll be Sore!” Days later when he discovered–Eddie’s misspent time, Pa hovered– Over sulking Eddie, bent over that same chair! As belt lashed his tender bottom, Lad sobbing, looking solemn, Again that bloody bird came, and shat upon the floor…just to heckle, nothing more.” (apologies to one of my literary heroes, Mr. E. A. Poe) ______________________________________________________________________________Pinned to The Story by my friend, Eleanor T.; Thanks ET! —————————————————————————– Visit

THE STORY: “They were kindred spirits. Orphans, both–alone, together in the world. Their existence was perfect. They moved as one, and ate and slept and played. Then? Stupid Humans, “grown-ups” no less, had to come along, and ruin everything. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ _________________________________________________________________________ photoallegory of sarolta bรกn, Visit

THE STORY: “A furious wave of hands arose from the mob of media men, curiosity-seekers. All had questions, demanding to know about silvery-alien-mystery unveiled before them. Doctors Fraukenstine and Hide finally managed to grab headlines away from that hideous Elephant Man side-show. Extraterrestrials are real…Friendly, simply curious, or malevolent, the doctors had dealt with such entities. Together they were dismissed as sensationalist, glory-seeking Frauds. Finally, after mounting frustration due to scoffers, ridicule from esteemed fellows, Fraukenstine & Hide decided to give folks what they wanted: A Hoax. Their formula was elementary: One Street Urchin + Tin Foil + Silver Paint + clever, prosthetic appliances = their 15 minutes of fame. Too bad their little prank backfired. The metallic paint was heavy with lead and other mercurial toxins, which killed the handsomely-paid street urchin. Convicted of expediting the death of a child (however unwittingly), the good doctors were hung by the neck until dead. Not quite the attention they intended. ———————————————————————————————Pinned to The Story by Gail K. Thanks, Gail!

THE STORY: “Joe didn’t like the idea of settling down, starting a family. Joinin’ the war effort was a good excuse as any to get out of town. Mary Jane was heartbroken. Joe himself shed a few tears, sayin’ goodbyes. But not because he would miss Mary Jane so much (…or Sue, or Winnie, or even that sultry Matilda!) The girls were right: He might not make it home. And if he died, it would surely break his Ma’s heart. That’s why he cried a little. Joe was having some doubts the last few days, if he’d get out alive. Things were getting bloody. When the kid came around, his hope was renewed. He’d see his Ma again, he just knew it! Joe’s Ma was the prayin’ kind. He knew when he first saw the kid, dodging bullets, dragging the big bunch of little bananas, everything was going to be all right. He said a prayer of thanks, patted the kid’s head. They ate like pigs, they did. ———————————————————————————————Pinned by my friend, Gail K. –Thanks Gail!

THE STORY: “Safety Deposit Box No. 243, and only box 243, was opened. A bit of a surprise, finding the room, once part of Hiram Doucett Stoker Bank. All was thought to be lost in the disaster of 1981. Amazing enough to find the safety deposit boxes intact, but really, quite miraculous that all of the locked boxes still possessed their contents! The explosion in ’81 wasn’t an accident, after all. To be sure, whatever once hid in box number 243, held the key to the mystery. ——————————————————————————————–Abandoned Safety Deposit Boxes on

Pin by Eleanor T. ———————————————————————————————– THE STORY: (singing live on the radio show for Thanksgiving) “It don’t mean a thing, if it ain’t got its wings! Sh-bop! Sh-bop!” _________________________________________________________________________ Visit