SPOILIN’ THE BROTH
Our grandson Augustin (Augie), a third- grader, has developed a yen to write stories. And, of course, since we all know our grandkids are more brilliant than anybody else’s, Pegaroo and I think there’s a Pulitzer in his future.
Augie, who just turned 9, came to our house the other day carrying a sheet of notebook paper, written in pencil on front and back, with his latest short story. It follows, unedited:
The Tale of the Astronaut Sheep
It was a nice sunny day on the farm. The cows were eating grass, the chickens danced the chicken dance, the pigs played in the mud, but the sheep were bored. They thought the farm was boring and every time they tried to count each other, they wouldn’t stay still.
They decided to do something different for fun. They were going to the moon! Or, as the cows would say, the “Moooooooon!”
They told all the animals, but one cow wanted to go with them so she could jump over the moon. They would go on Saturday afternoon.
The other animals knew that this was a very special occasion, so they decided to dress up. The chickens would where tuxitos, the cows would where jackets, and the pigs would where overalls.
The animals built the rocket ship. Saturday afternoon the sheep got ready and took the cow with them into the rocket ship. The animals were there as they counted “1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8... .9...10 BLAST OFF!!!!”
The rocket ship started to lift off the ground. All the animals waved as the sheep went toward the sky.
After a while, the sheep had fun with the gravity thing. They told jokes, ate the food they packed, played what they called “gravity sheep tag,” and when they got to the moon, they put on their space suits.
But before the sheep steped on the moon, the cow jumped out and jumped over the moon and said, “I’m jumping over the Mooooooooon!” and went back in the ship.
When one of the sheep steped out, he said, “One small step for sheep, one giant leap for sheepkind.”
He was very happy to be the first sheep on the moon, but he was also happy to skip shear day.
Once they were all on the moon, they all did a high-hoof. Now they knew what to do when they are bored.
Now I printed Augie’s story realizing that most of my half-dozen loyal readers out there would believe this is the best column I have ever produced.
Well, shucks, I’ll buy that. firstname.lastname@example.org