The pen is mightier than the sword, they say. What they forgot to add is that the pen is often meaner, too.
“You wench! Do not put me beside that foul beast.” Pride and Prejudice squirmed in my hand, its pages fluttering as though it wanted to fly away. In honor of Canadian Library
“What time is it?” The question echoed through the chamber, more command than query.
A cacophony of voices answered, “It’s time for Wise Wizard Warry’s Show!”
Screeches rose from a group of witches in front while a trio of centaurs yelled in a husky baritone in the back. Between them a hundred other species…
Having sent her stepdaughter Jo Bright on a goodwill tour of the far realms, Queen Regality consulted her hand mirror again. “With Jo gone, I’m now the fairest in the land, right?” The mirror replied: “Not to embarrass you, but alas! Queen, those fairer would fill my glass.” After briefly considering tours for all those women too…
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Heart pounding, I scanned the abandoned castle courtyard where ancient stones lay scattered like forgotten memories. The harvest tournament would begin any minute. Should my foster brother enter without a sword… I swallowed hard, reconsidering whether to bring Sir Kay something that might imperil my own neck. He’d likely have my head either way.
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So, I did something stupid.
A barn cat’s number one rule is simple: catch the rats, leave the chickens alone. It’s not a hard rule to follow. Chickens are mean. The ones with the larger combs threaten to kill me just for walking by—rude considering I protect their nests from rats.
“Éclairs.”
“Angel food cake,” I counter, crossing my arms and staring my little sister down. “We haven’t had that in forever.”
“Well why don’t we just do both?” Sophie flips through Mom’s gigantic recipe book. “If we make them at the same time, it’ll be really quick.”
I contemplate that. She has a point.
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate goats? I mean, really hate goats?
No? Well, that’s not surprising. I don’t like to reflect on the day those little monsters almost ruined my future. First dates are bad enough without floating goats.
Floating goats? Yes, they float. Don’t ask me how.
His father’s demeaning taunts proclaiming Jordan would never accomplish anything rang in his ears as he approached Hole 18. It’d taken everything to get this far, but he remained in last place. He shook his head and feigned a confidence he didn’t feel.
“Almost there, Mouse,” Jordan slapped his caddy on the back and flashed a carefree smile, “
August is prime princess-kidnapping season. Ask even the tiniest dragonet, and they could tell you a thousand stories of Thunderclaw the Terrible, Blazebite the Brutal, or even Grumblewing the Grim and their renowned kidnappings. What did all these dragons have in common?
They planned their kidnappings in August: when princesses are about to…
Every year, I tell myself I’m never baking for the fair again. It always ends in disaster. When I tried making a gingerbread house, the walls wouldn’t hold together and the roof caved in. I struggled on, until Mama paid me to give up on it. Another time, I made pies.
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On August 19, as I planned my lemonade stand crawl for National Lemonade Day tomorrow, a perplexing pronouncement pinged my PDA: “Hue Splatman has given Mayor Butterbloggs six hours to surrender Adver City before he detonates a network of non-yellow paint bombs.”
I gasped. “Suffering citrus, how will we paint the town yellow? Lemon Fest will be ruined!”
Whoever declared August National Family Fun Month must not have been a bridal consultant. Tiny cousins visiting with the bride are superb; peak wedding season is superb; enthusiastic dinos are superb. All three in the Daydream Bridal Boutique at once?
Think Jurassic Park if the jungle was made of fluffy petticoats.
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