My name is Griswold. Live up stairs, my friend, Melita, lives down stairs. She a free lancer. Her personfriend, And Gumperson, says that makes her ultraistic knightress. Then they laugh. Whatever. And is hysterical architypture, his jokes not always funny. He makes awesome silly faces. Then bubbly laugh loudly out my ears. And tail gets all swishy.
We have adventures in our moonfull midnight garden. Like being pilots, or sea captains, or finding buried treasures like fountains. We grow vegetables; weeds taste better than eggplants. Eggplant, yuck! Melita likes my shuffle, paw-stomp, splay-foot squiggle dance better outside. Inside, well, Griswold’s tail is dangerous, she says. She not so good at dancing.
I a DIMM. No, silly, not light bulb not shine bright – a doitmyselfmonster. I fixed squeelly garden swing and painted my favourite colour nightglo orange. Where we swing and talk and plan expeditions. Sometimes Melita and And sit there. When they think Griswold isn’t looking, they kiss. Yuck.
Melita says I am digressor. Means I wander. Tale Weavering supposed to be about Groghel, my flamhsures.
Mother said if be good at nightsery school, could get another pet. Mother so silly – she think Melita is pet, not friend! So, report card better, and Mother orders me flamhsures. Cousin of house hippo*, but hairier. And bigger. With fangs. And a long pointy tale. Eats banana peels, kale and asparagus stems. Yuck. Made nest of dust bunny fluff, spider silk, wilted flowers in sweater drawer. Snores. Funny. Sounds like Mother.
He comes along to watch Dracula, Wolfman, and Godzilla movies at Melita’s when she and And are on playdate. Groghel makes nuclear popcorn and turns Tv loud. Then I get scared. Melita says music makes fur get all stand-uppy.
He eats my homework – honest – and takes selfies of himself and posts them on Melita’s blog. She not happy with Groghel, and if he not behave, she make him stay with sweaters. She not know that on dontify #2 [Griswoldian for birthday] flamhsures get wings. Sssh – better keep secret.
There, Griswold woven 3 stories for wordsmithy Michael. All by my selves this time. Griswold being not sensicalable. Don’t really have flamshures, just house hippo. She snores and makes nests out of homework. Honest.
Tale Weaver #120: making sense of nonsense: flamhsures
My inner Griswold popped out on his own. He was born on March 19, 2015 for mlmm Tale Weaver #5: Mythical Creatures. For an idea of what Griswold is like, think of Maurice Seldak’s Where the Wild Things Are. Griswold is a small monster, orangish fur, tufts of hair on the tippy-top of his ears, amethyst eyes, large paws with long talons, swishy tail longer than he is tall. His tail is expressive – it makes frowns and smiles. Laughter chuff-chortles out of his ears, and he does a splay-footed dance of greeting and happiness.
He lives in the attic apartment with his parents, Mrs. & Mr. G above his friend (or pet, she isn’t sure which) Melita. Since their first meeting, they have shared adventures in their midnight garden behind the house. Life with the Griswolds is never dull, and they have grown into each other’s lives. Mrs. G still thinks Melita is too much of a humanizing influence; Melita still finds Mrs. G’s cooking noxious and obnoxious. Melita remains hopeless at learning all the proper Griswoldian greetings and dance steps; Griswold watches horror movies at Melita’s with the sound turned off so the movie isn’t too scary. And so it goes. Once And Gumperson entered their lives, Melita and Griswold found new adventures. With Griswold doing the story telling. He’s developing an imagination and voice uniquely his own.
Previous Melita and Griswold tales:
© Lorraine all content/stories copy-write of the author