Malappropriate Behavior

Howdee do, folks!

Cuzzin Clem here, a-peekin' atcha! I done been asked to come over here fer a spell from my buddy the Pointmeister's other blog.

'Ceptin' I'm a tad hornswoggled, coz he done be a usin' the name the Verbinator over here. I figures he muss be a-hidin' out fer some reason he ain't been forthwith.

Anyways, he's been tellin' me 'bout this site he's been a-sharin' with this mighty purty girl name of Serena. Tarnation! The way he tells it she must be royalty or somethin' lack that, coz he's a-been calling her the Queen of ReNoun. Well, I guess I might as well take his word for it, 'ceptin' I never heared tell of nary a one country called Renoun nowheres.

But I digest, coz I sometimes start to talkin' on 'bout somethin' else when I shud be talkin' on other such things I'm supposed to be talkin' on. Well, as he 'splained it to me, this here site is s'posed to be 'bout words and such. To be Pacific, he wanted me to shoot the breeze 'bout using the wrong words when you s'posed to be using 'nother words.

Now what was that word he wuz a-usin'? Don't tell me. I'll get get it d'rectly. It had somethin' to with an air-o-plane with a broke propeller. Oh yeah, 'twas Malaprop's he said I shud be talkin' to y'all 'bout.

I 'spect he'd want me to be tellin' the story of when I wuz in the sixth grade. I don't have to tell y'all that the sixth grade sure is mighty hard when you're twenty-two years old. Anyways, Miss Snodgrass had us write one of them "What I Did For the Summer" comprehensions in a hunnert words or so.

Well, when she handed our assays back to us, darned iffin mine didn't have more of her red marks in the margarine than the words I'd writ down in the first place. Rather than gives you any 'zamples, I 'm gwonna show what I 'rigin'ly writ down in the first place afore she writ upon it herself. Then I'm gwonna show you what it done looked like after she done took to scratchin' things out with that red pen of her'n.

What I Did For the Summer
-(An assay by Clem)

My summer vaccination began with me sitting in the outhouse out back of where we keep Spike our old hound dawg. Whilst I was a swatting the yellow jackets away from my ass, I did me some serious thinking about the furniture of what I might be when I was growed up. I pitchered myself as one of those rich typhoons who got rich on precocious metals. I'd have a vast suppository of money in a safe at my testate.

If it's any consolidation, I can't really phantom more money than what'll fit in my pockets, especially those that don't have holes in them. I'm not incinerating that I wouldn't want to be rich, but I suspect it's a phrase everyone who is poor goes through at one time or another.

My maw gave me an old tomato to do something instead of littering around all day. She said I should be computating painting the tool shed. Well, I didn't like her vagrant suggestion that I was lazy. So I hauled out all the paraffin nails I would be needing to accommodate the chore I was facing.

Accordian to maw, this job would probably end up with cats after me. I swan, she must have put a cuss on me. Sure enough if my dawg didn't walk by and get his leash caught on the ladder. What happened next, my maw says was a pigment of my imagination. All I know is that the ladder and dawg went one way and I went the other! Next thing I knew I was face down on terra cotta and fading into Bolivian.

Maw says I'll get around to finishing painting the tool shed some day. I spent the rest of the summer composting this assay. That is how I spent my summer.

What I Did For the Summer
-(An assay essay by Clem)

My summer vaccination vacation began with me sitting in the outhouse lean to out back where we keep Spike our old hound dawg dog. Whilst While I was a swatting the yellow jackets away from my ass face, I did me some serious thinking about the furniture future of what I might be when I was growed grown up. I pitchered pictured myself as one of those rich typhoons tycoons who got rich on precocious precious metals. I'd have a vast suppository depository of money in a safe at my testate estate.

If it's any consolidation consolation, I can't really phantom fathom more money than what'll fit in my pockets, especially those that don't have holes in them. I'm not incinerating insinuating that I wouldn't want to be rich, but I suspect it's a phrase phase everyone who is poor goes through at one time or another.

My maw gave me an old tomato ultimatum to do something instead of littering loitering around all day. She said I should be computating contemplating painting the tool shed. Well, I didn't like her vagrant flagrant suggestion I was lazy. So I hauled out all the paraffin nails paraphernalia I would be needing to accommodate accomplish the chore I was facing.

Accordian According to maw, this job would probably end up with cats after me catastrophe. I swan swear, she must have put a cuss curse on me. Sure enough if my dawg dog didn't walk by and get his leash caught on the ladder. What happened next, my maw says was a pigment figment of my imagination. All I know is that the ladder and dawg dog went one way and I went the other! Next thing I knew I was face down on terra cotta terra firma and fading into Bolivian oblivion.

Maw says I'll get around to finishing painting the tool shed some day. I spent the rest of the summer composting composing this assay essay. That is how I spent my summer.

Well, I reckon I should be scootin' on home. I think I did a fair to middlin' job a learnin' y'all 'bout those broke propeller things.

No.10