Going through scrapbooks and a box full of memories, I found an old story I had written in 1968, third or fourth grade.
The Day I Met the Abominable Snowman
One day I was walking along our fence and then a harry thing was squeezing me half to death. I screamed and screamed. My mother came out and gave him a haircut and found out that it was my father. He spoke to me in French.
My first thought was this sounds like one of my crazy dreams. There's a red smiley face and the word good, so it must have been a school assignment.
I was a very strange kid ...... 😁
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