My Favorite So Far!

Glenna week continues! =)

Before leaving for camp, Glenna was taking a creative writing class with Mrs. R. Since she'll be schooling differently next year, I was so thankful that Glenna had one more chance for instruction with Mrs. R! I love her assignments!

While this is undeniably my favorite poem, the following is, hands-down, my favorite paraphrased story. I'm sure you'll recognize this familiar tale, though it has a very unfamiliar setting!


Rightly Different
by Glenna W.

It was 1848, and the West was as harsh as it was giving. Although she proved herself as a brutal mistress, my pa squeezed out of her a wealthy living of cattle and had more success than any sheep herder could ever get even if he lived in a coat factory. But who cares about any wool-pokers; this here's about my little brother, Mick. The fool was never where he shoulda been and was lazy from his red head to his sixth toe. When I thought he couldn't get any dumber, he got it in his hollow head that he'd just up and skip all the work and ask Pa for all the money he was gonna get when Pa bit the dust, which turned out to be a lot of loot for one guy. Oddly enough, Pa gave it to him. Off Mick went with his crooked grin and fat pockets, leaving behind a distressed Pa and one angry brother.

As a year passed by, I became the best dang cow herder around. Not that it mattered or nuthin', I was too fed-up with that good-for-nuthin' brother that I'd snarl at the ranch hands 'til I had about as many friends as a grizzly. Pa never noticed. He was too busy hiking up a hill to check for that no-good cheat. On one particular day, the Swede man on the ranch gave me a letter with Mick's chicken scratch all over it. It said:

Jedd,

Wall, here I is in Californy lookin' for some gold. I'm puttin' Pa's money into some tools for siftin' and mebbe I'll use 'em one day. But the water's real cold and I hear the wimmin' like it better when ya got all yer toes on the end of yer foot. But heck! I got an extry one of those to spare! The other day a sheep man told me that if I don't get no gold I could mebbee work for him. He done said that if I can't handle the sheep he got ducks I can poke 'round. Little does he know I was the best hand on Pa's place! But I'll never need his help, that's for shore! The gals down at the saloon be callin' me, and who am I to refuse? I'd hate to be ya, Jedd!

~ Mick

With disgust, I tossed the letter like a dead rattler to the corner of the room and spat in its honor. I tipped back in my chair moodily and took my sweet time in brooding. My sulk was cut short with cries coming from outside. If it wasn't the hands shoutin', "He's back! He's home!" I bolted to the window to see none other than my brother swingin' home with my proud Pa's arm around his shoulder!

Limping out to where the action was, (them dumb cattle never can put their hooves where they should), I heard Pa ordering up a feast in honor of the rat. That did it. "Pa!" I exploded, "What are you thinking? Don't you know I have practically been running this place by myself because of the holes this kid left? Why on earth are you givin' him a party, let alone letting him step a foot on this ranch?"

Pa chuckled and roped me under his arm saying, "Jedd, you should know by now that all I got here is yours. As for your brother, he's been gone, but now he's back, and whatever he done is did and I'll forgive it. Because by Jove I love 'im! And I love you, too, so quit workin' so hard!"

With another hearty laugh, Pa walked off to see to the party. Looking at Mick critically, I grinned as a duck feather floated down from his coat. "Sheep get the best of ya?" I joked. He scowled at me. Then things seemed right again, but somehow I knew it was all going to be different.