Story Hour – Stella’s Blog

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Hello! Here is my new story. It is based on a true event that happened to me.

Once upon a time yesterday, I was minding my own business in the yard, just running around and enjoying the super hot day (not enjoying, not really) when the sky started falling on my head.

“Oh, no!” I shouted. “The sky is melting. It got too hot and now it is dripping like water on my head, only it is not wet and it is not water.”

I stared at the pieces of the sky that bounced off of my tough bulldog head. They weren’t pieces of sky at all. They were half-eaten green pecans from one of the trees. I ran out from under the pecan tree and under the red oak tree.  Tiny acorns rained down on me. Why? Why were the trees spitting their nuts on me? I thought they liked me. I always enjoy the shade they provide and I show my appreciation by not using them as a bathroom.

I asked the trees what they thought they were doing. They did not answer. Branches shook and leaves rattled.  A shadow flew over my head.

A squirrel! A flying squirrel!

Transcriptionist: Hold on now. A flying squirrel? You said this story was based on a true event.

Dear Listeners and Readers, please ignore the interruption.

The squirrel flew from branch to branch, from tree to tree, flinging green pecans with big bite marks taken out of them. His aim was good. He was fast, but I was faster.

I took a mighty leap and flew up into the red oak tree. Through the branches and around and around the trunk, I chased the nut-thrower. Finally, I wore the squirrel out and chased him over the fence. That taught him to throw things at me!

Transcriptionist: Woah there, horsey! I think your story has run off on its own legs. When did you learn to fly?

 When you are being bombed by a squirrel, you do what you must. That squirrel learned who rules that yard. Flying Stella, Squirrel Fighter.

The End (for now).

Signed, Queen Stella

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stella the Storyteller – Stella’s Blog

Hello! I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I have written a new story. Well, I have not written it. I leave that for my transcriptionist because I cannot spell. Or type. Or scratch with a stick the way she does, leaving marks all over flat papers.

I have picked up many sticks during my life, but not one of them ever left strange marks on paper; so I figure that my transcriptionist finds her marking sticks in someone else’s yard, maybe when she leaves the house and comes back with bags full of mysterious things that she never shares with us.

Even if I found a stick that would make marks, it would not matter because I cannot read the written languages of the humans. Even with their spoken words, I can only make out what a small number of their noises mean. Which reminds me – I need to start working on that bulldog/human dictionary.

Have you ever seen inside a human’s house? (Well, of course, you have. You are humans. That slipped out of my mind for a moment.) There are shelves and tables stacked with marked paper that is held together inside delicious boards. They call them books and they love them.

Did I say ‘delicious’? Forget I mentioned that. I wouldn’t chew on the humans’ books. Okay, maybe I did once and that is how I know that they are delicious.

The humans must think that books are delicious, too, though I have never seen them put one in their mouths. They carry them around and hold them and open them and stare at them for the longest time and then they carelessly leave them on the floor or on a chair where it is oh so easy for me to reach them. The humans enjoy putting temptation in my path and then act all surprised when they see me carrying one of their treasures in my mouth.

I am a bulldog! My mouth is huge! I have to fill it with something!

Transcriptionist: Were you going to tell a story?

 Oh, yes…but now I am tired. Talking about weird human behavior is exhausting. I will tell a story later. Right now, I am just going to take a tiny nap. Not long. Three, maybe four hours at most.

Sweet dreams, humans.

Signed,

Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

 

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.