The Serious post #2

Pro 21:2 Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but the LORD weighs the heart.

Aaaaah!

Okay, so the general consensus (according to the people who commented) was that my blog template was boring and BLAH. So I, caring deeply about my gentle readers opinions, changed it, even though I didn't want to. I'm such a martyr!

Now, I really, really don't like this new one. I think it's way to bright, but not original enough. The Reluctant Dragon blog layout ought to scream, "Quirky!" and "Unusual!" and "Super awesome!" Not like the last one did, but it was better! I guess I'm just rejecting any hint of change and throwing a fit. Sort of like Pat of Silver Bush, for the minority out there that has actually read that book.
So, I want YOU! (Picture me here pointing a strangely foreshortened arm and extended pointer finger at you while I'm wearing striped pants and a top hat that defies the laws of perspective.)
... To tell me whether I should go back to the old, safe background or stick with this ugly one or get a very scrapbookish looking one.
Please? Pleeease? It doesn't have to be an essay, hey, if you want to, just write "ew" in the comment section if you don't like this new template.
So, comment! (And thanks to all of you who commented last time.)

The Third Meeting of the Reluctant Dragon Fan Club

(Note: To read the first meeting click HERE. To read the second, click HERE)

Ophelia smiles confidently. She has overcome her fear of fan club meetings and is quite proud of her self. Considering what happened at the last meeting, she has a right to be. Not only that, but she has discovered the perfect place for the meeting; McDonald's.

Why McDonald's? Because of the instant popularity it will grant her. She has thought this over for months;by offering a free meal to each of her supporters she will become the best loved blogger on the world wide web, a must for her self-confidence.

Elsewhere, the CEO of McDonald's sits at his desk, frowning darkly. The stocks of McDonald's corporation have gone down, way down. The CEO is unsure what is causing the drop. At this rate, by 2017, McDonald's will go out of business unless something amazing happens. He decides to fly his private jet down to a nearby location to see if he can discover the problem.

Back to Ophelia, who is at her local McDonald's giving a speech to her fans: "Welcome to the third meeting of The Reluctant Dragon Fan Club!" Ophelia begins tremulously. "I'm fairly certain you all know my name. It's nice to um, er, be able to see the faces of the people who support my blog. To show all of you just how much I appreciate the support of my gentle readers, I am going to treat every one of you to a free meal! So, uh, order up!"

A cheer rises from the fans crowding into McDonald's. They clap, but then start shoving each other for a place in line. For a few minutes, McDonald's rings with shouts as people wrestle for spots in line to get their free meals. The manager begins to panic, shouting, "Order! Order!" Ophelia begins to be frantic also, afraid that this third meeting will turn out like the last one. Just then, to add to the pandemonium, the CEO chooses exactly that opportune moment to show up. "Manager!" he begins, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. It is unqualified people like you who are ruining the reputation of McDonald's corporation. I'm going to see that you are repla-"

But before he can finish his sentence, the CEO is swept away by a wave of hungry Reluctant Dragon fans. Desperate to save himself from being trampled, the CEO grabs onto a post and shimmies up to a safe height.

Ah! Relief!A donut-munching, coffee-slurping policeman barges in to save the day, takes one look at the chaos and grabs the manager by the scruff of the neck. "What kindaofa business are you trying run here! Lookatthe mess you made for me to clean up!"he growls, "Everybody line up! You, stop! CUTTHATOUT!"

With a surprising speed, the policeman has everyone in place. Ophelia frowns, realizing that the line wraps around the inside of the building, and several people are standing just out the door. "There are a lot of people here, and this is going to take a toll on my pocketbook. Well, at least that's everybody."

The CEO, finally sliding down from his perch at the top of the post has noticed the large amount of people, and suddenly hits upon a brilliant market strategy to rescue McDonald's. He knows that if people receive a free meal, chances are that they will become addicted to McDonald's greasy, "delicious" food, and thus, become consistent customers. In the past, attempting this particular strategy has caused companies to go bankrupt if they lose too much money on the free meal, but the CEO plans on taking advantage of poor unsuspecting Ophelia, and her money. He quickly exits the building to spread the word to passersby that "for a limited time only, McDonald's is offering people a first free meal!"

For the next twenty minutes, Ophelia chats with her readers, signing autographs and enjoying herself. Then, looking up, she notices something very peculiar; the line has not gotten smaller, even though most of the fans have already been served. Now, the line wraps two times around the McDonald's building. Ophelia racks her brain to think where they could be coming from. She realizes that word must have gotten out that there were free meals at McDonald's! For a few moments, she stands, dumbfounded, but then she tries to spring into action, attempting to shove her way towards the front of the line to stop the purchases made on her account. But her fans stop her! They shove pieces of paper at her, crying, "I want your autograph!"

Ophelia's dream has come true; she is the most popular blogger ever, yet that dream no longer matters, she must get to that cashier! For the next half hour she persists in struggling, swimming upstream in the current of people. Then, finally, she makes it! Ophelia pants wearily to the cashier, "Don't give anybody anymore free food. I'll pay my tab now."

"Yes ma'am. Your total is $12,459.72. Thank you for shopping at McDonald's Have a nice day," The clerk rants in a monotone.

Ophelia gasps. "$12,459? No, that can't be true!"

"It isn't true, ma'am. You owe McDonald's $12,459.72."

Ophelia slumps down and lays her head on the counter. "Put... put, put it on my tab. Here's $459 right here." Slowly she walks out of the store, the noise and crowd seeming far away. "$12, 459.72. $12,459.72." She mutters over and over again. An employee announces on a megaphone, "McDonald's is now no longer giving away free food. Thank you for eating at McDonald's."

To settle her enormous debt to McDonald's, Ophelia drops out of high school and gets a job at the local McDonald's as a lowly fry cook. McDonald's stocks go up in value and the CEO lives happily ever after.

To be continued...

My Dad's Ice Cream Addiction

So, long story short: My dad loves ice cream. Watch this fascinating interview to catch a glimpse of his love for ice cream.

P.S. YES! I can now post videos! I believe I can safely say that I'll post more often.

White

Okay, so what does everybody think of white? That is, white backgrounds on blogs, like mine. Is it incredibly boring, or artsy and simplistic? Should I get an ultra frilly layout?

I kinda like the white, but this, gentle readers is your chance to speak up and tell me things like, "I can't read the text, it should be bigger!" or "Don't be boring, get a new background!" Maybe something on my blog irks you every time you look at it. So comment! Remember, you don't have to have a blogger identity to comment on my blog.

P.S. Bracie says I ought to get a new profile picture, but I'm enjoying the purple wig. What do you think?

The Second Episode in the Chronicles of Miss Penelope Faullty

(Note: To read the first episode, click HERE)

Penelope: (delightedly) “Charity died? Who killed the nasty, spiteful little thing? If I knew him I should like to give him a kiss.”
Inspector Winderby: (grimly) “Don’t put on an act when you’ve already let too much slip. And don’t say “him” to me after you told me it was a woman, you most likely, who murdered the girl.”
Penelope: (wonderingly) Me? Me? How could you even suspect me of killing a person? What a low, dirty thing to do. I would never dream of it!”
Inspector Winderby: (dazedly) “But you said- You confessed to have murdered Charity Ellison!” Penelope: (indignantly) “There you go, putting words in my mouth. You ought to be ashamed. Besides, I said I did it, not that I murdered somebody.”
Inspector Winderby: (still dazedly) “But how could you do it without murdering Miss Ellison?”
Penelope: (superiorly) “My dear fellow, are you so ignorant that you have never heard of a class of people called evil hench-people? I’m quite disappointed in you.”

Inspector Winderby: (triumphantly) "Ah! So you hired a man to kill her for you!"

Penelope: (severely) "There you go again, assuming that only men can kill people. Remember, assuming makes-"

Inspector Winderby: (quickly) "Yes, yes. So, did you or did you not kill Miss Ellison?"

The TRUTH!

For those of you who haven't realized already...
Asher and Trey aren't really my second cousins. Asher and Trey aren't really Asher and Trey. Asher and Trey don't really exist.

And now the terrible truth comes out:

Asher and Trey are really Ophelia and Bracie.



Yes, folks, it's true. These strapping young gentlemen are actually the talented, clever, beautiful and humble Ophelia and Bracie.



Er, um, wait a minute. Wrong Ophelia and Bracie. These are the ugly stupid Bracie and Ophelia.


That's better. Anyway, aren't you shocked? Actually, probably most of you guessed and thought it was quite hilarious.

THE END

I apologize for how untimely this post is, but I just couldn't wait until next year to do a post on Pumpkins. Here's Ava's: Bracie's:


Gile's:

And finally mine. Isn't it super awesome? Huh? Huh?


For all you who couldn't guess, it's MASTER CHIEF! The one, the only. Isn't that awesome?

WHAT! You don't know who Master Chief is? How could you? He has his own wikipedia article.
Ah, well, I guess nobody shares my enthusiasm. It is after all just a video game that I never actually play.

Blank.

Today, I opened up my blogging account and clicked on "create post." Then... I, I, I sat there and I didn't know what to write! My mind was blanker than a sea monkey. I frantically racked my brain for suggestions, "Uh, How sorry I am that I haven't posted? No, I'm not that sorry. How annoyed I am that I can't load a video? No, if I write about that I'll bore my readers."

So now, I'm writing about how I can't think of anything to blog about. Which is, if I really think about it, momentous. I can almost always think of something. Perhaps I have run dry. Horrors! Or maybe I just too tired from staying up until midnight for the last three nights.

I apologize for not posting lately. You see, I really have been busy because we have had out of town guests with daughters my age, which means late nights.

Every time I try to post, I try to post a video. I wait for a long time for the video to load, and then a little window pops up that says "We're sorry, contact us and include the following information blah, blah, blah." Somehow, since this has been happeing for the last month, I highly doubt that they are actually sorry.

I just posted about everything that I decided I wouldn't. However, I'm not very sorry. I wonder what this says about my character?

-Ophelia

Dadism, #2

Today's dadism is...

"It had to be one of us."

Seriously, it's true. Every time something is broken, you can count on the fact that one of us broke it. If you don't believe me, read these stories, which happened on different days

Our church has a bell, and consequently a bell rope. The sturdy rope had been ringing the bell for many, many years without any problems. Finally, it was our family's turn to ring the bell because it was our week to do worship. Giles, my little brother grabbed the bell rope and gave it a nice, not too hard tug. Plop! The rope broke off and fell on the floor in a heap. All he did was touch it and it was ruined.

And then there's my story: I play the piano for worship at church. At the church we have a piano and consequently a piano bench. The sturdy piano bench had been sat on for many, many years without any problems. Finally, it was our family's turn to do worship, so I sat on the piano bench. Boom! The leg of the bench collapsed. All I did was sit! And yeesh, I'm not that heavy!

These are just two examples. Any time you hear a CRASH! a BOOM! or a THUD! You can almost guarantee that someone in my family is behind it.

The First episode in the Chronicles of Miss Penelope Faullty

Inspector Winderby: (wearily) “Suspect number fourteen, please come forward. Name, please?”
Penelope: (brightly)“Miss Penelope Alexandria Juliana Faullty. With two l’s if you please.”
Inspector Winderby: (automatically) “Miss Faullty, can you supply any information regarding this recent unpleasant business?”
Penelope: (uncertainly) “Must I tell the truth?”
Inspector Winderby: (incredulously) “That, Miss, is why you were sworn in!”
Penelope: (doubtfully) “I raised my left hand instead of my right. Doesn’t that make a difference?”
Inspector Winderby: (sternly) “Not in the least!”
Penelope: (reluctantly) “Well, (sniff) it was… (sniff) me.”
Inspector Winderby: (loudly) “You! What did you say your name was?”
Penelope: (slowly) “Miss Penelope Alexandria Juliana Faullty. With two L’s.”
Inspector Winderby proceeds to attempt to put handcuffs on Penelope.
Penelope: (tearfully) “Handcuffs! The idea of putting handcuffs on a lady. You will make me cry!” Penelope begins to sniffle profusely.
Inspector Winderby: (unsympathetically) “Fancy calling a confessed murderer a lady. A lady spends her time doing much more charitable things than committing murder.”
Penelope: (indignantly) “You are taking an unstable position on the conduct of ladies. In not so many words: you are quite wrong. They kill people all the time; it is merely that they are excellent at putting the blame on somebody else.”
Inspector Winderby: (severely) “Er… never mind all that. Why did you kill Miss Charity Ellison?”

(What should I title this really random post?)

I apologize for not posting consistently. Actually, I don't, because it's MY blog, and I get to do whatever I want! Bwahahahaha! *Evil laughter*

Okay, I've calmed down now. Anyway, you all should be proud of me for being such a good girl and doing my schoolwork instead of blogging. Except right now I should be doing school. And I'm blogging. Ah, well. Actually, I'm putting my little sister Ava to bed, which reminds me; I don't think that she has made her appearance on my blog yet. If I can get the video thingamabob to work, expect the official introduction any day now.

Looking back at these last couple paragraphs, I realize that they are incredibly random. Ah, well. Like blogger like blog. Or like blog like blogger? Nevermind.