A Story By Third Grade MollsMolly McAleer

I recently dug up this story that I wrote in third grade and transcribed it from the bound book that I’d originally written it in (spelling and grammar errors included) for my blog and HelloGiggles. Aren’t I an archeologist? Do you like how I lied about my age in my “About The Author” page and made myself a year older so that I would seem more mature?

Enjoy!

“TO STOP THE WITCH”

by Molly McAleer

“Ahh! This is the life!” I said. I am Phil Science, expert detective. I was sitting back in a lawn chair, drinking lemonade. I had a little umbrella in my glass.

Ring! Ring!

“Oh, well! So much for relaxing,” I said, putting down my magazine. I picked up the phone and said, “Good morning.”

But all I heard was a cackling voice saying, “Ha! Ha! You will never catch me now!”

“Oh no!” I said, scratching my beard. I have a two foot beard, a bushy moustache,  and i am going bald on top. But I think that my moustache makes up for the hair that is missing on my head. And I have dark brown hair. Let me tell you who that was on the phone. It was the Grumbling Witch of the North.

She is so nasty, once she tried to control the earth. But I won’t get into that now. I have to find out what she is up to!

Once I followed her to her house a couple years ago and I still remember where she lives, not too far away from my house — just a mile or so.

I left my house, locked my door, and set out on my journey. When i got there I looked up at her house. I had never seen anything so awful in my life. It was getting dark and it was a full moon which made it extra scary.

I walked up to the window and took a peek. The place was infested with drugs! There were drugs all over the place!

“So that is what she is up to,” I whispered. All of a sudden, I heard a loud cackling noise.

“Now that all of this lovely stuff is mine, i can supply those wart-faced children with these!” hollered the witch.

“Oh, no! Oh, no!” I said frantickly. “I must stop her! She is too evil to let this pass!”

I ran all the way home, unlocked the door and jogged up to my most prized possession – my bottle of sea glass from Hawaii. It was magic.

“Sorry, old boy, time to use you,” I said. I opened the bottle and a little man appeared.

“What shall I do for you!?!?,” he asked,

“Well, a witch want to supply all of the kids with drugs. How can I stop her?,” I asked.

“Kill her off!,” said the little man. And the man disappeared for good, along with the bottle.

But I did not care! I sure had a lot to think about! How would I kill her? Maybe I could just make her go into a deep sleep and when she woke up she would be nice forever!

So I set to work on my potion. I took a big black marker and wrote:

TO STOP THE WITCH

  • nutmeg
  • Apple Jacks
  • mozzarella
  • 8 pig tails
  • meatballs
  • 2 lamb tongues
  • Super glue
  • Raw egg
  • lipstick used by Cindy Crawford
  • Elvis’ two front teeth

“Not so bad,” I said. It was too dark to go out now, so I planned to go to the supermarket the next day. I was doing this to stop the witch and her evil plans. I ended up dozed out on the couch.

In the morning I went to the supermarket. I found everything I needed, except for the lipstick and the teeth.

“Maybe I should go to Graceland and dig up Elvis’ grave,” I thought. So the next day I got a plane ticket to Graceland. I left a week later.

I got to Memphis, Tennessee at 6:00 PM and saw a big sign that said, “This way to Elvis’ House. Thank you very much.”

I looked up to my right and saw something so huge that you would think the president lived there. But he didn’t because there was a sign that said, “Good. You found Elvis’ House.”

Next to the house was a grave.

“It must be Elvis,” I muttered. I ran up to it, said a small prayer and started to dig. Suddenly, after many hours of digging, I hit something. THUD! Eureka! I did it! I stopped the buffoonery and got to work. I brushed some dirt away and saw the weirdest looking coffin in the world. It was shaped like a guitar.

CREEEEEEEEK! And there he was, the king himself! Elvis. I took out a small hammer and began to tap at his teeth. Tap. Tap. Tap. And his teeth fell out into my hands.

It was about 8:00 AM so I rushed down the street to the airport to catch my plane to the next stop, Hollywood, to get Cindy Crawford’s lipstick.

Phew. “Just on time,” I said. I found my seat in the crowded airplane and pulled out my new book. Then I had a distinct feeling that someone was watching me. i saw a lady with a big smile staring at me.

“May I help you?” It was the stewardess.

“Would you like some peanuts?”

“GO AWAY!!,” I shrieked.

“Yes, sir! Have a nice day!” And the lady left.

I started to read when the plane landed in Hollywood. “Phew! I made it!,” I said, wiping my brow. I showed a man a ticket at the baggage claim and then went outside and hailed a cab.

“Take me to Cindy Crawford’s mansion, please!” I said, jumping into a yellow cab.

“Yes, sir!” said the driver. We started to drive away from the airport and then the driver started telling me his life story. After about half an hour, the man said to me, “Twenty-five dollars please!”

“Wow! That much?” I asked.

“Yup, sir!,” he replied.

I forked over the money and hurried my way up to her door. The witch had probably distributed drugs to hundreds of kids by now!

I rang the doorbell and it was answered by CINDY CRAWFORD!

“Hi! Miss Crawford?… um… I am trying to stop the Grumbling Witch of the North.”

“WHAT??”

“See, I am trying to stop the witch from handing out drugs to ‘wart-faced kids’,” I said, quoting her.

“Oh, I see,” said Cindy, looking puzzled.

“May I have your lipstick for my potion?”

“Well, I’m in the middle of shooting a Pepsi commercial…. but okay.”

She took me to her makeup room and showed me her lipstick. She had hundreds, maybe thousands of that unnatural lip gunk.

“Do you want Revlon, Maybeline, or Lancome?”

“Just give me one,” I said in a whiney tone.

“Here’s my favorite. It’s called ‘Hot Date’,” she replied.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Well, I must be getting back to my commercial, and you must leave,” she said, sounding slightly pleased that I was going. I thanked her one more time and then left.

I walked down the street and took a train to the airport and got home at about 12:00 PM. I poured all the ingredients into a pot and stirred slowly. I let the potion settle into the pot and poured it into little bottles. How was I going to get this to the witch?

Of course! Just a small dose in her soup and BAM! She’ll fall asleep right away!

I sat down and watched a movie on Channel 2 and fell asleep.

The next day I went to the witch’s house and went into the thorn bushes and waited. Soon the witch left her house and I snuck in.

I saw some fish fin soup on the stove. I quietly crept over to the big black pot and poured the potion into the soup.

All of a sudden I heard, “Ha, ha, ha! One hundred more wart-faces!”

I ran behind an old arm chair.

I watched the old crippled witch in her I [HEART] New York hat slowly walk over to the stove, pour herself a bowl, and sit down. She slurped a spoonful and said, “Ahh! Fish fin soup!”

All of a sudden, BAM! Just like I said, she fell asleep.

Then I heard the witch mumble, “No more drugs, no more drugs.” She had been sleeping for two hours.

Yeah! I did it!

Soon the witch woke up and saw me. Guess what the first thing she said to me was?

“Will you marry me?”

“No way!” I cried. “I’m taking you to the slammer!”

“Oh, fine. If you insist.” She said in a kissy-face voice.

“Come on,” I said, shoving her on the bus. (I don’t have a car.)

The bus dropped her off at the police station. The next day, the headline of the paper was, “Grumbling Witch Of The North Caught, Will Be Released Next Year”.

1994 – THE NEXT YEAR

“Ahh! This is the life!”

Ring! Ring!

“Good morning.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Oh, no!”

comments

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  1. Wow, you got issues, man.

    But you are too funny. And a great writer.

    I wish my house was infested with drugs rather than mice.

  2. Happy to know I wasn’t the only accidentally morbid elementary wannabe author lol

  3. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t as good a writer three years ago as you were when you were ten :)

  4. So funny! I love that this clearly was not of utmost importance (stopping the witch) – or was the detective just narcoleptic? P.S. I don’t have a car. Really cute story :)

  5. “Good. You found Elvis’ House.”

    This is the best.

  6. the imagination of a 10 year old. i wish i was still just as creative and as imaginative as i was when i was 10! great story 10 year old Molls!! :D

  7. Such grand buffoonery!

  8. Wow! First, it is hard to blieve you were in 3rd grade, there is mad detail in your story! From the umbrella in the lemonade, to the ‘stop the witch’ recipe, to plane rides, sound effects opening Elvis’ grave, tapping out his teeth, the ‘hot date’ lipstick, shark fin soup (very specific)and my favorite the witch’s I Heart New York hat. hahahhahaha

  9. Love it! I knew the story would end well when you stopped the buffoonery.

  10. So cute .. Adorable girl ..

  11. By far the best story I’ve read in years. ‘The place was infested with drugs!”

  12. so totally adorable!! LoveLoveLove!!! ♥

  13. This is wondrous.

  14. this was too cute! bravo! :D

  15. This made my day!

  16. Love, love, love it!

  17. This is amazing! The style of your writing reminds me of my own at that age, but you definitely had way more imagination than me!

  18. “I sat down and watched a movie on Channel 2 and fell asleep.”

    As you do.

  19. I have a two foot beard and a bushy mustache also.

  20. Awww, gurl! xoxo