Good intentions, slow start
For all my good intentions, I haven’t got very far with reading and writing blogs. But I have been doing some reading and writing though and checking in on blogs from time to time. I guess it’s only three months since the last post, and this is the fourth for the year, so I’m not doing too badly.
I haven’t done any more to the Marnie stories since my last post. But I’ve been playing around with a few other ideas and have written some stories for children aged 6-9 for competitions. Funnily enough (no pun intended) the competitions all want humorous stories.
One competition is done and dusted, and my story didn’t rate a mention. I didn’t really expect it to but enjoyed having a reason to write as I’m still struggling to regain my lost motivation. The other comps don’t close for a while so I’m still working on improving my stories.
As the first competition is finished, I thought I’d share my story with you.
The story was to be no more than 200 words in length, and I was to choose a character and an object from six of each that were provided. I chose Bob McFartypants (character) and the smelly perfume (object). I have to say that, being now out of practice with flash fiction, I found the 200 word limit, well, quite limiting. I found the same with the 800-word limits of the other competitions too. One of my stories started with 1300 words. It was quite a task to pare back 500 words, but I have. How successfully remains to be seen. I’ll be sure to let you know if there’s anything exciting to report.
Anyway, here’s my story. I hope you enjoy it (even though it is for children).
Bob McFartypants and the Smelly Perfume
His badge said: ‘Robert McFaren Paderson, Official Village Pooper-Scooper’. His job was to keep the streets free of animal poop. Everyone called him Bob McFartyPants.
Bob didn’t fart more than anyone else. His ‘perfume’ just made it seem that way; especially when his plastic pants rubbed “PFFT! PFFT! PFFT!” his rubber boots squelched “SLUP! SLUP! SLUP!” and his breath made little popping sounds. “PHH! PHH! PHH!”
Nobody else wanted Bob’s job.
“EW! Bob’s dirty,” they’d say. “EW! Bob’s smelly. EW! Bob’s farty. Bob McFartyFartyPants. PHEW! PHEW! PHEW!”
For one whole week, Bob was too sad to scoop poop, too sad to get out of bed. Poop littered the streets. The villagers could hardly breathe; flies filled the air. Soon, every inch was covered in stinky, slippery poop. When the Mayor left his office to investigate, he slipped BLOOP into a pile of gloopy poop.
“Bob McFartyPants!” he yelled. “Where are you?”
He marched to Bob’s house.
“Robert,” he said. “We need you. Please come back to work. The village is a pigsty without you.”
So, Robert went back to work. Nobody dared call him Bob McFartyPants again. They preferred his smelly perfume to the stench of his job not done.
Best wishes,
Norah
Norah Colvin 
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