Saturday, February 05, 2005

THE FUNNY FARM WRITING CLUB WRITES, PART 5 OF THE TOMCAT CLUB


Cotton, member of the Funny Farm Writing Club

THE FUNNY FARM WRITING CLUB WRITES
PART FIVE OF THE TOMCAT CLUB
Copyright 2005 Janice Price

“I’m glad you could all attend this meeting on such short notice,” President Crystal tells the felines assembled in the bathtub and the two canines sitting on the bathroom floor with their heads hanging over the side of the tub. “It has taken longer than we thought it would to put together a fiction story for Jan. It’s due today, so we need to vote on it now, before Jan wakes up and reads the copy Percy typed onto her computer. It’s getting late, nearly five in the morning instead of our usual time of four a.m., but Percy’s paws were cold and he couldn’t type as fast as he normally can.

Crystal stomps his foot, in lieu of a gavel. “I hereby call this meeting to order.”

“Let’s get right to the final draft,” Vice president Cyndi encourages. “I like what we wrote as a team. Go ahead and read it, Percy.”

“Okay, Cyndi, but first let me remind everyone of the word list: church, acorn, undertaker, flight attendant, Goshen, cloudy, meekly and hope.”

Mr. Doug, the only undertaker in Goshen, was meekly digging a small grave in the hard clay of his cemetery.

“Wait a minute,” Merci interrupts. “Mr. Doug doesn’t live in Goshen. He lives in the county.”

“I told you in a previous meeting we’re writing fiction so we can move Goshen anywhere we want it to be,” Crystal explains. “Do you have a better idea of how to use the word Goshen?”

“No.”

“Then let Percy finish. Percy, go ahead with the story.”

Mr. Doug, the only undertaker in Goshen, was meekly digging a small grave in the hard clay of his cemetery.

“You already read that part,” Cotton complains.

Crystal glares at her and Percy resumes the story.

Mr. Doug, the only undertaker in Goshen, was meekly digging a small grave in the hard clay of his cemetery. On a nearby tree limb sat Miss Mother Bird and her young family. They watched him intently, barely noticing the cotton balls rolling across the cloudy sky. Tears coursed down each beak.

“I’m going to miss him,” Miss Mother Bird cried. “I never had to worry about any of you children falling behind or getting lost when Harry was our flight attendant. He flew right into a rawhide bone hanging in the tree. If only we had stopped for a quick acorn or two at the hors d’oeuvres tree when he mentioned he was feeling a bit weak from hunger.”

“Hmm, acorns.” Buddy licks his chops. “One of my favorite hors d’oeuvres.”

Percy clears his throat.

Mr. Doug, the only undertaker in Goshen –

Treasurer Cameron groans. “Not again.”

Crystal stomps his foot. “Everyone be quiet! Percy is almost finished. Go ahead, Percy, but we’re in a hurry. Please pick up where you left off.”

“If only we had stopped for a quick acorn or two at the hors d’oeuvres tree when he mentioned he was feeling a bit weak from hunger.”

One of the baby birds asked, “Why didn’t we hope harder that he would die when he hit his head and fell to the ground, Mama?”

“Yes, then he would have survived,” piped up another baby bird.

“It’s time to go, children,” Miss Mother Bird told them through her tears. “But watch me carefully so you don’t get lost or fall behind and be quiet so I can hear if one of you has a problem. I don’t know how I’m going to safely teach all of you to fly at one time without a flight attendant.”

Mr. Doug, unaware of Miss Mother Bird’s crisis, finished covering her flight attendant’s grave and walked slowly back into his church house.

The club members are elated. “I like that. We did a great job.”

“I make a motion we adjourn now so we can all rest,” Buddy says, thinking of the warm blanket on his bed.

Cameron seconds it. “I want to be there to watch Jan’s face when she reads this story. It’s so good she’ll probably think she wrote it herself.”

“I want to be there to see your faces when Jan reads it,” Cotton says, standing up and leaping gracefully over the tub.

“Hey, come back here and pay your dues,” Cameron demands.

Crystal stomps his foot, in lieu of a gavel. “Cameron, you and your dues are a pain! Meeting adjourned.”

Percy
Secretary of the Funny Farm Writing Club

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