Friday, January 12, 2007

Gramma Gene

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Categories : MikeGenes World

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published: vendredi 12 janvier 2007 4:46:34

I’m typing away one evening, when I hear Gramma Gene downstairs calling. “Mikey! Mikey Gene!!,” she shouts while synchronizing her words with the clunking sound that comes from thumping her cane on the ground. I quickly run downstairs. “Yes, Gramma?” She looks at me and says crossly, “Are you up there playing on that dagburnit computer again?!” “Er, no Gramma,” I says.

“Good, then you can help me with my puzzle. I can’t figure out how to get it started!” I asked her what it’s supposed to be. She wacks me with her cane and says, “Well, Mr. Smarty Pants Author, according to the box, it’s supposed to be a tiger.”

So I check out the puzzle pieces that are spread all over her tray and then check out the box. I say to her, “Gramma Gene, yer never goin’ be able to put these pieces together to make a tiger.”

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