‘Don’t judge a book by its cover,’ the famous saying that you are told to go by as you chose a new delightful story to entertain yourself with. Well I am here to tell you this. Don’t ever listen to that rule. It sucks. I just spent my morning in our monthly book club meetings in Mrs. Glitterby’s yard around her fairy hut in Pixieville. An hour and a half discussing the non-eventful plot of our stupid book that she insisted we read. All of the creatures from my side of the swamp pleaded her not to choose the boring tale, but choose it she did!! And now I have to spend my lazy time in my comfy, muddy sofa seat, when I could be reading some classic made up fairytale of Jack and the Beanstalk, reading the boring-est book ever known to all of the Forest Field! First look at the smiley kitty feeding the dragon on the cover would make you want to hurl. But it gets better; they end up being “friends” and going to each other’s dens and playing Cattywhompus. I mean really, what was the point of that story?! My advice to you, always judge a book by its cover. If the cover looks bad, I bet you the story is terrible. I sigh and plop in my sofa and take a sip of moss water.
Though, if you went to the opposite side of the Forest Field where Mrs. Glitterby lives and where all of the ‘happy’ creatures are, you might get a summary more like, “I love this book! It is a darling story of a precious kitty and a docile dragon and …. Blah! Blah! Blah!”
But I guess that’s what you get when you are a swamp troll like me. You have a negative outlook on life and its little “stories”, no one really wants you around, you smell like decaying plant life, you have all sorts of sicknesses, and the half blind old mole down the road confuses your foot print with Big Foot from the Beaches. At least I have my swamp house. It’s a little like a pool house, but more like a swamp house because it’s by my swamp, not a pool. It’s homey and comfy and filled with books and right by my swamp. Other creatures loathe the swamp’s putrid odor, but I think of it as aromatherapy for my overactive grump-a-situs. I do enjoy the bubbles of gasses that pop on the edge and the filmy layer of tasty green algae that grows in the summer time. But no one else seems to be thrilled of the swamp’s existence. That would be why they moved away moon cycles ago. In short, creatures just don’t get me. I’m a loner.
Maybe because of my loner disease, I was so surprised to hear a knock on my front door of the swamp house. Maybe because of that knock, I jumped right out of my sofa chair and hid behind the bookcase. Maybe because of my hiding, the bookcase toppled over spilling books upon books onto the grassy floor. Maybe because of the falling books, my moss water spilled onto the bee’s wax candle and caused it to sputter out. Or maybe that was all because of my Cause & Effect cold that I am currently sick with. Either way, I was left in the dark with nowhere to hid, and something was knocking on my door. With nothing else to do, I slowly crept toward the rickety rackety door frame.