Once upon a time the machine of toast appeared on my blog and now it has appeared again, this time as novel. God tells me little children like short stories mostly, which can be read in a day, but novels are for older readers. He said only reason I want to write novel is for prestige, no? I want to accomplish something, I say, big goal of writing novel this month or longer perhaps. This is funny because it will take you longer, but how much longer you know not, thought comes to me. I only write in little snippets so this could take while. Oh well, I'll try it. Try it? You've got to do it, says thought, if you want to get it done start now and go full tilt for a couple of months and see what comes out of it, no? Yes, is the answer says thought.
But even children of very young age read novels when read to them, so don't give up, says God. All you have to find is suitable subject for young children, write in small parts daily on Web. Small men are popping out of machine of toast in my mind. Is this good enough? Marvellous! What are their names? First one named Pavel. Pavel is toast man, made of toast I mean, with arms and legs and bushy hair on head. He wears clothes and struts about reeling off rhyming verse.
Abyssinia is a place far away.
You can tell I hope to go there one day.
Mother may I go there? No.
Your mother wants you to hoe.
Mother may I go there? Yes.
Your mother wants you to guess.
Ho ho ho go.
He snuck off when machine of toast wasn't looking to see his mother. Adorable mother, he said, can I go to Spain? Well, we'll see about that. How old are you now? Three said Pavel. No, dear, you're too young, she reply kindly. So Pavel being resourceful child, sat down at table and made donkey out of modelling clay. Clip clop said donkey and walked across table.
To Be Continued
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