Some of the readers of this site will know that this story is the original piece of material behind Candlelight Stories. Back in 1994, I sat at a very flimsy folding table in a Los Angeles apartment with a box of pastels, crayons and ballpoint pens to scratch out a pile of illustrations that vaguely added up to some kind of Christmas tale. I still have all those original drawings in a big department store box.
Steve Bynghall lives in London, England. Other poems about Brooke and her useless Dad appear on Smories.com. Visit http://www.smories.com/author/steve-bynghall/ for more details. If you want to be notified when a new Brooke story will be appearing please email [email protected].
Brooke and the Ramshackle Ship
Brooke’s Dad was the captain
Of the world’s most hopeless boat
It was ramshackle and rotten
It could hardly stay afloat!
The Ketchup Bottle Genie
“Hey,” Eric yelped as he watched his younger brother Ian shake a huge glob of ketchup onto his sandwich. “You emptied the bottle. What am I supposed to put on my hot dog?”
“Mom got another bottle,” Ian mumbled as he stuffed half the sandwich in his mouth, Go look in the refrigerator.”
Eric stomped to the refrigerator and pulled out a weird shaped-bottle. “Genie Ketchup Company? I never heard of this brand,” said Eric as he unscrewed the lid.
A moment after the lid came off; all the ketchup in the bottle squirted to the ceiling, and started to spin like a tornado.Eric and Ian dove under the table.
A flash of light momentarily blinded them. When their vision cleared they saw a man with long, black hair floating in mid-air. His red pants barely fit over his bulging belly, and his white shirt was splattered with ketchup.
Peeking out from under the table Eric asked in a trembling voice, “Who are you?”
The strange visitor floated down from the ceiling and looked under the table. “I’m the Ketchup Bottle Genie. Haven’t you heard of me?”
by Tyler Van Wynsberghe
by Bonnie Blake (Canada)
Hop…step…hop went Beth up the driveway. She flung open the wooden gate and galloped into the backyard.
“Please go to the store for me,” said her mother. “I’m not done planting the tulips.”
“What are we having for lunch?” Beth asked.
“I haven’t decided yet, but we need bread.”