Just for fun

I have probably started thousands of stories in my lifetime. Seriously. Haha. And I've only ever finished ONE. Even so, it's kind of fun when I find some old story I've written ages ago and never finished. I just found this story in an old email account of mine. I must have written it one day when I was bored and saved it in my drafts, cause that's where it was! But I wonder what it was going to be about?? I decided to post it because it's silly and funny and so old!! What do you think? I must have written it when I was ten or eleven.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

Chapter One
The Little Yellow House Atop the Green Hill


If you follow a little dirt path that winds through long fields covered with small, pretty flowers, over grassy hills dotted with butterflies, past a large farm filled with animals, under a blue sky spotted with fluffy white clouds, you will come to Mrs. Merdodle's small yellow house atop a little green hill. It will look cosy and quiet and very proper. It will seem as if it has always been a serene, calm little place where nothing strange or abnormal has ever happened . . . but there was a time when it wasn't quite so.

Mrs. Merdodle looks quite a bit like her house. She is small, and has yellow hair, and very much like her house's large, square windows, she has large, square spectacles. She looks perfectly "de rigueur" and decorous, but she also has a comfy, kind look about her face and blue, twinkly eyes. She, like her house, is just started to look a tiny bit old. A few white and gray hairs mix with her blond ones, and a couple of wrinkles (though they might come more from laughter than age) show around her eyes. The little house is missing some shingles, and the wood looks a bit gray around the yellow edges. But both she and the house, you can tell, are still brimming with life.

Mrs. Merdodle loves fancy things. She loves long, elegant dresses, fluffy, handsome scarves, genteel, dainty little gloves, and just grand shoes. But most of all, she loves hats. Mrs. Merdodle has boxes and boxes of hats. She has lacy hats and frilly hats. She has pink hats and blue hats and green hats and yellow hats and purple and brown hats. She has striped hats and plaid and polkadot hats. She has so many hats that her house, no matter how hard it tried, could not possibly fit them all in one or two closets alone. For a while Mrs. Merdodle didn't know what to do, but soon enough she got an idea. She emptied out her kitchen cupboards, her bathroom cupboards, her dresser, her desk drawers, and, of course, all of her closets, including the bathroom one, and put as many hats as she could into those. When all the hats did not fit, she put them under her bed, in her pantry, and even in her fringe, leaving just barely enough room in it for a week's groceries. She still had rather a lot of hats left over, so she just lay them on her kitchen table and coffee table, her dresser and her bathroom counter, and anywhere else they would fit. Whenever friends came to call, the hats that lined the couch of course needed to be moved, and the ones on the toilet seat, and the few she could fit on the lamps, too. When that happened, they had to be moved onto the floor, so often it was hard to move around in the little house, but Mrs. Merdodle didn't mind, after all, they were her hats, her beloved hats.

The only pet Mrs. Merdodle had, for she didn't have enough room for more, was a little goldfish in a goldfishbowl, and sometimes even that had to be covered up with a few hats. She had once had a little pet bird named John, but it had been quite annoyed with the perpetual hats that were loaded unto its cage, and as soon as it had the chance, it had run away. Sometimes, on her daily walks, Mrs. Merdodle saw it in a tree with its new family, but whenever this happened John would give her a disdainful peek and pretend to overlook her, and he taught his two children, Jane and Matthew, to do the same. At first this had badly hurt Mrs. Merdodle's feelings, but one day she had seen him give her a almost loving glance, and after that she knew that his feelings were the ones hurt, and she had since tried to sooth them, leaving out little snacks, and now she had a feeling he was only pretending to be sad so the she would not stop putting out the tastey treats. The goldish was named Apple Sauce, for Mrs Merdodle had once dropped some apple sauce into the bowl, and the fish had gobbled it up and looked up as if expecting more, and had ever since had only eaten apple sauce, and no other name suited it.

The house itself seemed quite happy with its occupants, and never comlained about the hats at all. Perhaps it understood that hats are 'just plain jolly old things' as Mrs. Merdodle put it, after all, it's roof looked somewhat like one brown one Mrs. Merdodle herself owned, and often wore. Or else it had just gotten used to Mrs. Merdodle, and had learned to put up with everything about her. Whatever it was, the little yellow house stood stately atop the green hill just the same.




Chapter Two
The Hat


One day Mrs. Merdodle went out to do a few errands. First she had to pick up some milk and eggs and a bottle of apple sauce from the local grocer, Mr. Kerboble. The line at the counter was so very long that Mrs. Merdodle could not wait patiently. Soon enough she put her eggs and milk and bottle of apple sauce, and a delicious looking chocolate bar she hadn't been able to resist buying, down on a very large bag of potatoes, told them she would be right back (they didn't seem to mind her leaving for just a few minutes, for all they did was lie there on the big bag.) and that she was just going to walk about the street for a bit. Out she went, and the very first thing she did was walk into her favorite store, the clothes, shoes and accessories store. Inside was warm and cosy, and Mrs. Merdodle looked down at her newest pair of shoes she had just gotten the other morning, and somehow they just didn't seem that fancy anymore. She looked longingly at the many rows of shoes that lined the farthest corner of the store. She smiled at the lady at the counter and walked quickly to the shoe section.

As she looked at each shoe slowly and carefully. She found a very, very nice pair, and was just about to buy it when she saw it. She saw the hat. It was a big, beautiful, fancy, purple hat. It was purple all over. It had a wide, shiny purple ribbon around it that ended in a big purple bow. A big, fluffy, soft, purple feather stuck out at just the perfect angle. Mrs. Merdodle had never seen a hat nearly as fancy before. Carefully and lovingly picking it up, she slowly, slowly brought it to the counter.
"How - how much does this hat cost?" She asked, barely able to breath. The lady told. It was a very expensive hat. A VERY, very expensive hat. In all her life, Mrs. Merdodle had never, ever heard of such an expensive hat. She looked in her purse, and her pockets, and even in the big frills on her dress, but she couldn't find anywhere near enough money!

Mrs. Merdodle slowly walked back to where the fancy, purple, expensive hat belonged. She sadly put it back, as carefully as she could. Then, forgetting all about her errands, and the milk, eggs and apple sauce, she started on her way home. The food hadn't minded being left on the bag of potatoes for a little while, but they did mind being completely forgotten, for they rolled off of the sack and out into the street, looking quite as if they expected Mrs. Merdodle to come and pick them up. That was where kindly Mr. Kerboble, who had been out taking a breath of air and brushing his bushy white mustache, found them and brought them safely inside, left with the conclusion the wind had knocked them down somehow.

The little hosue must have wondered when its friend came back with nothing, after she had told it just that morning that it was going to bring home some food. The goldfish surely did wonder, and was rather disappointed, for it had been looking forward to the apple sauce very expectantly. Mrs. Merdodle thumped onto the couch, barely making room for herself by moving the hats intime. What's wrong? Apple sauce seemed to ask. When Mrs. Merdodle saw Apple Sauce, she remembered about the food. "Oh dear!" She cried, "I've certainly hurt the poor milk and eggs an apple sauce's feelings! I'd best go fix that! After all, I do want some supper." Apple Sauce's face agreed, and Mrs. Merdodle put her coat back on and went back out right away.

As she walked down the little dirt path under the blue sky spotted with fluffy white clouds, over the hills dotted with butterflies and through the long fields covered with small, pretty flowers, she past a farm full of animals. Suddenly, she had an idea. She walked straight into the barn where there were lots of horses and cows and chickens. Out in the fields, Mrs. Merdodle saw the farmer with his sheep.
"Hello!" She called, "Mr. FARMER! Hello!" Finally he looked up. He started running towards her. He jumped over a tall fence and kept on running and running towards her. She started to think he might mistake her for a thief and he might be coming to grab her and put her in some kind of jail. But before she could do anything, he hopped up in front of her and cried, "Yippy-ky-yay! Hello there!"