Some of the things I write are really forgettable. “The Case of the Missing Magical Blueberry Dog” is not.

I wrote this amazing piece of literature as a third grader, apparently with the help of a kid named Troy. He lived a few houses away from me during elementary school, and was definitely one of the more unique kids at Floris Elementary.

It is a wonder our teacher that year survived given the cast of characters in our class. But I guess it was this kind of incredible storytelling bursting from her students’ brains that kept her coming back day after day just to see what we would come up with next.

One note before I get to the story–the Danny Schwartnager character was supposed to be named after Arnold Schwarzenegger, but clearly spelling complicated last names was not our forte. I will leave in the rest of the misspellings, so bear with our third-grade skillz:

It took place in Antartica. Suddenly Blueberry Bebop drank rubbing alcohol and dognapped the magical blueberry dog. When the Good Humar man found out that his dog got dognapped he told Troy, Chris, Chucky and Danny Schwartznager. He was going to find his dog.

When the Good Humar man got to the hideout he said, “allright Dr. Heat, give me back my dog!!!!!” He walked up the hallway…. the steps came closer, who would open the purple steel door?

Chucky opened the door. He took his lazerride bazooka and blew up the door. He took his tazer and tried to shoot Mr. Chewy but missed and shot the magical blueberry dog. It knocked him out for a half a year. Troy said, “Without the magical blueberry dog we will all be doomed.”

To be continued…

(I found a page titled “The Case of the Missing Magical Blueberry Dog Part II” and can only assume it will continue this very clear plotline):

Good thing Troy had an time traveling divise, so he can type in a 1/2 a year. But he acciduntally typed in 123,456,789,001 and a 1/2 yearr in the future. When they were there Troy realized that he typed in the wrong year.

There was alot of panic Troy was worried. Chucky screamed, “How do we get back?” Troy replied, “I don’t know but there’s got to be a way. Let’s try going back in time 123,456,789,001 years in the past.”

When they got there Chris said “Home sweet home.”

“Sweet? It smells like a dead skunk in coffee,” said Chucky.

The End.

Tomorrow on the blog, I go “back in time” to help third-grade Chris finish this story in a somewhat coherent way (at least with better spelling). Stay tuned.