The kids and I had a few hours at home this morning while the builders fiddled about with the washing machine – again. (Don’t ask, but they seem better than the plumber with this!) We played cards for a bit – cheat – and then I remembered how much we all enjoy story consequences. There have been some short tempers round here recently, which is mainly due to illness, lack of sleep (up late for various reasons, some better than others) and a steady stream of men called Paul who need to turn off the water, or get that floor up, or something. Story consequences is a great collaborative activity and no-one got cross with anyone else – until I had to go and talk to a builder for a minute, but that didn’t last long.
Here’s one of the best. If you don’t find it screamingly funny then there’s something wrong with you, evidently, as my children declare these stories to be hysterical. Don’t argue with me, BTW, lack of sleep does bad things to my patience levels.
Here is a story by Allie, Leo and Pearl. Each person writes two and half lines and then folds over the completed lines, passes the paper to the next person, who carries on. Leo, who writes in small capitals, seemed able to fit in more than me and P, who use a joined script. So, guess where we passed the story on? Some of us try to write a continuous story, others tend to get a bit carried away…
“Once upon a time there was a king and a queen. They lived in a castle. Knights with pet rooks guarded by a dying dog. It had two heads, everyone from far off lands came to see it. Other dogs would bow down to it. Until one day. That day two mice came to the kitchen and stole the king’s cutlery. The kind died later. “Oh, I don’t eat sweets!” snorted the boar. He went on chewing the rusty bench, with a grim, purposeful air. “If you happened to have a painkiller I’d be grateful as I have an upset pet lion. He came home today without having any time to play,” said the bishop, once they had got to his house. It was not far away. He said that some children had scared a note pad and loved the telly. They also ate cannon bear cheese with a ball of fluff. But that was a bit strange. The next week they bought back the farmer’s dog. Two fish also liked to stay down their shirts. The end.”
I have another eight stories like that and if you’re not careful I might just blog each one. BTW, cannon bear is one of my favourite cheeses – just in case anyone here is in need of Chrissie present idea for me.