Oh boy. That was fun. If you missed Saturday’s post, there’s still time to add your little chapter to the book we’re writing. See, y’all used the comments on Saturday to add to a little story that began like this:

“It was a dark and stormy night.” It was illustrated by this photo:

Here’s what happened next (thanks to my friends who added to the story with their comments):

I was left alone with my grumpy grandpa on a terribly stormy day. Grumpy grandpa was a mean old cuss because I need him to VOTE for me and he refuses to get on the Internet because of the storm brewing.

“No more stories, Stuart. Get out of there. The grumpy guy is accusing YOU of stealing his teeth and toupé and is getting his vast extended family on a witchhunt to get the perp-YOU. Scram! Leave now,” Kyla exclaimed.

Even with the storm brewing and this very scary guy holding my photo, I could STILL hear the “chippers” calling my name! “Stuart, come and find us!” Don’t “chippers” know a storm is coming??

My friend Toby said, “I’ll help you hunt those nasty chippers!!” I said let me get my trusty Thundershirt on, just in case…. so out in the brewing storm, two fearless Scotties go! Just as we were about to…

go through the gate, Mr. Owl swooped in and offered to help. He knew where the chippers lived, so we set off at a trot, trying our Scottie best to keep up with him. He cut through the forest and we never hesitated, heading straight into the dark wood. But were we surprised when we came out into a clearing and saw…

a giant old Scottish castle. Fearlessly, we entered hoping those chippers had run inside. The castle was cold and old and we could hear our nails scratching along the old stone floor as we ran through the large rooms looking for those darn chippers. Suddenly we came upon…

The Werechipper…bitten by a groundhog that had overdosed on deep fried haggis, they lust for Terrier blood…

As I spotted the werechipper first, I turned to my hunting partner, Toby, to say, ‘You go left and I will go right to trap the chipper,’ but **poof** Toby was gone…. I guess his peeps called him for dinner…

It was a dark and stormy night…with my sturdy Thundershirt I felt not a quiver…. not even the slightest fright. Even grumpy gramps wanted me here to help keep away his slightest fear. “Please stay Stuart dear, for I sense doom is near!” Being the braveheart that I am, I spent the night “PROTECTING HIM” without a single whim…

ARROooooooo

…and this dog is trying to steal my thunder.

My turn:

Steal my thunder? Never. That old mean yard-dog of a grumpy grandpa can’t steal my thunder because I. Am. A. Scottie. “Quick, Toby, finish your dinner, for we must be quick about it. We must find that evil werechipper before it casts its spell on the wee chippers and they take over the world! But wait…Toby, that was a grand idea you had. I must take a dinner break myself. And fortify my Scottie-self for the coming chipper showdown. Be back in a flash. Just in time to…

What happens next is up to anyone’s guess. YOUR TURN! Leave me a comment and add to the story!

What You Learned Today:

• Oh boy, We have fun at The Scottie Chronicles. We’re writing a little story.
• YOU can add to it! Leave a comment with what happens next.
• OH.. and don’t forget to vote for me today! I think we can pull this off. Truly. I do. We’ve got THREE MORE WEEKS! Go here now and vote! Thank you kindly.