Killer’s Fury

I cook.

I burn.

I cut the air.

I speed.

I zap through the gloomy sky.

I scare.

I am as black as ink.

I surge.

I boil.

I cathead.

I pour.

I wail.

I overpower people.

I thunder.

I billow.

I cry.

I am a killer’s fury, the exploding lightning.

Dun, dun, dun!

Ha, ha, ha!

 

How to Buy Stuff

This is how to buy stuff at the store.  You need cash, buying stuff, and a cart or basket.  First, you get a cart or basket.  Second, you get stuff and put it in the cart.  Next, you go to the place where you buy it.  Then you put your stuff on the thing that carries it to the cashier.  Finally, you give the cashier the cash.  That’s how you buy stuff.

If I Were a Colonist

I am a colonist in the early 1700s.  I wonder if my horse is ready to go wagon riding.  I have a straw roof on my house and wooden walls and a dirt floor.  I have apple pie always for breakfast.  We always work together.  After we are done, we have a celebration for our work.  We sometimes go to the carnival.

We sometimes go to church and pray, worship, and listen to two or four hour sermons.  If a girl goes to sleep, a person gets a feather and tickles her.  If a boy falls to sleep, someone gets a head bonker and bonks his head!

The Scary Storm

The storm begins

Taunting

Scaring

Pouring

Screaming

Cat-heading

Roaring

Booming

 

I love storms.

The storm’s middle

Swamping

Crashing

Roaring

Zapping

Jiggling

Raining

Scaring

 

I love storms.

 

The storm’s end

Sprinkling

Stopping

Sunning

Giggling

Happying

Loving

Booming

 

I love storms.

 

 

Things to Joke Around on a Boring Day

Juggle cupcakes.
Pet a raccoon’s tail.
Eat all of the sandwiches with the cat.
Fly around the house with the parakeet.
Go ice fishing at the North Pole with Dad.
Let apples come alive and karate chop men.
Jump out and surprise Mom when she comes in.
Gobble 905,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 cupcakes.

From my reading journal . . .

I am reading Home for Christmas. There is a troll named Rolo. He ran away. His mother was crying when he left. Jan Brett wrote this book.

I have a connection. In Peter Pan, their kids ran away, but their mother didn’t know that the kids left and was not sad.