On A Scale Of 1 To Awesome These Ideas Are At Least A 3

A few months ago I began creating titles for new adaptions of classic works.

Miss Ratched with an army of ancient dinosaurs to help her control the ward.

Their love will never go mainstream

European imperialism just met its match: Zombies!

Then of course there's also The [Yellow Brick] Road: A Wizard of Oz post-apocalyptic crossover!

Right now I'm reading Hamlet in English and thinking, wouldn't this be great to combine with a chick flick: When Hamlet Met Sally

A Conversation In Three Parts: Part 3: The Story of How A Chicken Named Chippy Traumatized Me For Life

This is a very true account of how a chicken named Chippy traumatized me.

Once upon a time, we had chickens. There was Henrietta, Dotty, FeeFee, Chipple, and ... Chippy.

We got them when they were tiny little balls of fluff with beaks and we raised them in a box in our house until they got too big and had to be moved into an enclosure in the great outdoors.

We soon realized that Chippy was different. Chippy, was a rooster.

Or at least he was supposed to be. He never really quite got the crowing down. Every other day or so, around noon, he made this warbling noise that sounded like a cross between a broken vacuum cleaner and hyperventilating toad.

This may make Chippy sound somewhat endearing, but trust me, deep down he was a terrible and evil creature capable of heinous acts.

One day I went to collect the eggs. That's when Chippy came whirling around a corner and attacked me with everything he had.

And believe me, that chicken could bring it. He was a beast, a monster, and he definitely had some pterodactyl blood in him.

Quite honestly, I don't remember a lot of that fight. I've tried to block it from my mind. There was.... a lot of feathers. I remember kicking and kicking with all the strength of your average crying scrawny small child.


I lost that fight that day. I lost the fight with the Chippy the rooster. I never ventured into that enclosure again whilst Chippy was there.


You could say that he was just being territorial and that is very common in roosters. And your average child would not lose a fight to a chicken. But I know that Chippy was just plain evil.


To this day, a rooster's crow makes my blood turn to ice and my heart stop. I'm still a little nervous around small animals. You never know what they're planning.


A note: This, like all my other embarrassing stories is completely true. I was beaten up by an adolescent chicken as a small child. Although my family remembers Chippy a little differently:
 

A Conversation In Three Parts: Part 1 : Alligators and Fireflies

So, this morning I was talking to The Parents (2/3rds of them, my mother & stepfather) about fireflies. I'd found this really cool light that imitates fireflies, and I was very excited. A firefly light would be just the thing I would use if I were hosting a cocktail party outside in a fancy garden. If, you know, I could host cocktail parties and wasn't a high school student and had a really fancy garden.


But nonetheless, I found (and still find) the light beautiful and captivating and so I rambled on about how I love fireflies.
Then Parent was like, You find fireflies in swampy areas. Like Georgia. Where there are fireflies there are gators.
Which we all realized was rather a bad combination. A person would be mindlessly chasing fireflies and then get eaten by an alligator. Or maybe that would just be me.

So I came up with the marvelous idea that we should cross-breed fireflies with alligators so that alligators will light up when they get excited.

So imagine an alligator is hiding in a shrubbery

As it turns out my idea to draw an alligator hiding in shrubbery to avoid having to draw an actual alligator was a bad one because 1) I'm not much more capable of drawing shrubbery then I am of drawing alligators and 2) there is really no evidence alligators hide in shrubbery.

It's difficult to see when one is focusing with their entire heart and soul on capturing fireflies. But with an alligator-firefly cross breed, when the alligator got excited, it would look more like:

It still does not look like a shrubbery. It doesn't even look like it wants to be a shrubbery.

The Parents were skeptical, but I am positive this could be a thing.