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Pen to the Paper 3
Write with no plan. Sit down and write a story, a poem, a "mind-wandering," with absolutely no plan in mind. I find myself doing this a lot, and I want to see what your stories that have not been planned out look like. After writing the first draft, you can revise it however many times you like.
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Bits and Pieces
Chapter 11 of 33
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Chris_Howe

No Aliens Before Breakfast

“It’s goin’ be hot today,” Barley said to Frank, his friend of thirty years. “Yup,” Frank said. “I recon so”.

Frank was a man of few words, just like Barley himself. Probably why they got along so well.

The two men sat on the porch together dressed in nearly matching blue overalls, white tshirts, and workboots. They watched the fog slowly lifting from the meadow below.

Barley sharpened his knife on a stone while Frank practiced playing twinkle twinkle little star on his harmonica.

Barely passed

“I wonder if them space aliens is comin’ today?” Frank pondered as he pulled the new butterfly net closer to his chair.

Barley admired the razor-sharp edge, his first accomplishment of the day.

“I recon not Frank. Leastways not ’fore breakfast.

Frank wasn’t so sure.

Jeanna had come in from her daily excursion to the pond west of town with discouraging news. She hadn’t seen a single beaver today. Not even a slap or two of their big flat tails. The water was flat like a mirror. No sign of ’em anywhere.

Frank didn’t want to alarm the girl or her parents (they’re city folks / real nervous types) but, missin’ beavers is kinda serious. Everyone knows that the beavers tend ta skip town at the first sign of a space alien invasion.

But, Barley was right (as usual). There ain’t been a single alien invasion before breakfast. Not in his lifetime anyway. Unlikely they’ll start now.

Barley’s pickup truck was running now. His signal that it was time to go . If there’s anyone who appreciates a good breakfast more than the space aliens, it’s Barley.

“No, no, no Frank! Din’ I tell ya to leave that stinky ol’ dog a’ home?”

Everyday the same argument. Everyday the same result: Frank’s old dog Bo Bo cuddled up nice and close to Barley as the three of them drove down to Miller’s farm for a hearty breakfast.

“Bo Bo has a little gas this mornin’ Barley. Best keep yo’ distance.”

It was an unnecessary warning. Barley was already sittting as close to the door as he could. He sat with his body half turned sideways; his back crammed in the corner of the seat and the door.

Bo Bo and Barley lookEd. as if they were going to drive the pickup truck together.

“Gas, huh?

“Well I recon’ he can’t smell much worse than he always does”. Barley said.

With that, Bo Bo proved Barley wrong.

“What the hell ya’ feedin’ that thing? Frank. Frank! don’t tell me ya’ gave ’im canned chili again.”

“Okay”

“Ya can’t feed a forty year old dog canned chili.”

“Barley?”

″ Yeah?”

“The beavers is gone.”

“Bad sign Frank?”

“Real bad”.

Barley clapped his old friend on the shoulder And said: “Ain’t nothin we cant handle Frank. Let’s get us some breakfast, then we’ll find them beavers.”

Questions about this chapter

First Impressions

what is your first impression of bar