I spoke the TWOOF.
Said notebook looks like so:
Inside said notebook looks like so:
And those words say The Quest for the pipeweed theafs *GIANT STICKER* riten dy Stefa Bachmann, in case you were peering at them all askance.
It was my first story ever. I wrote it when I was six. Or seven. I don't remember which. But I'd prefer to think I was six, because my English skills were horrible. Anyway, since I'm all for embarrassing myself and good stuff like that, I'm going to post it!
A Chapter A: (Instead of, say, a chapter 1, or a chapter W)
(Also, I must warn you: I'm transcribing this word for word, complete with semi-incoherent spelling and questionable grammar and the fact that it's really lame Tolkien fan-fiction. Just so you're PREPARED.)
in a big howl lived a hobit namd Rich he livd wich 3 other Hobit named Bofry Dofry and Tofry they all liket to smok. they were the keeper's of the pipeweed.
It really says that. I'm not making this up. The defining trait of these hobbits is that they like to smoke. Fabulous. Look:
|I should probably add that no one in my family smokes. Anything. I don't think I had even encountered smoking people yet at that point in my life. Tolkien was just a total Subverter-of-the-Youth or something.|
one day news rang out that the pipweed was gon. Rich sent word to the Dwarfs to help find the thefs.
Ooh my. THEFS. Tension mounts.
The Dworfs pact ther ponies and rod of.
Poor ponies. Packed right in there...
The Hodits lookt all around the shier. Rindo one of the bigest Dworfs how was up ahed prints prints of somthing dig they led to a bunt part of the ground and on a bit of roc was Rhuns.
I honestly have no idea what any of that means.
|See the runes? Also, Pokemon stickers. No doubt I assumed Pokemon stickers beat my squibbly drawings any day.|
wich ment Dragon kill so the Dagon from Murkwood has com sed Rindo.
And then there's blaaah-bitty-blah-blah, more incoherence, and the ending goes like this.
Yeah. Dramatic, right? That's what I thought.
And there you have it! Apparently my first story was about hobbits who smoked. Yaaay... My writing has become much tamer since then, honest. Drugs are BAD. Ok.
Oh, wait, not bye, come baaaack. I think I'm just going to randomly pluck things out of my old writings folder and throw their green, slimy messes onto the screen for the next few posts. Unless you think that would be boring. Do tell. But if not I have an automatic blabber-subject, you see.
So, now bye for real.