Candyland was more than a game for me: It was a mystical land.
I imagined myself actually walking through it as I played the game, and I saw myself going into the houses.
The newer games, which came out after I outgrew Candyland, had different pictures, too cartoon-like and not as fun and mystical as the old pictures the game had in the 70s.
I made little people-shapes with my hands, probably not the traditional kind but my own “tiger-kangaroos.”
(The index finger was the head, the thumb and middle finger were arms, and the remaining fingers were legs. I invented these figures in Kindergarten–another story for another time.)
They walked along the spaces, sat on the ice cream floats (floating pieces of Neapolitan ice cream), and went into the various candy houses.
The Peanut Brittle House–oh, what a weird, sinister feeling that place had! I dreamed about it once, that I was inside it with my sister. I had at least one sister and no brothers in this dream, just the opposite of my real life.
She was working at the stove in an upstairs room by the window, making something in a saucepan.
It boiled up with lava and began to spill out of the saucepan.
We had to run away, because if it touched us, we would die.
We tried to run out of the house, but it wasn’t easy.
Ever since, I think of this dream whenever I see the old Peanut Brittle House.
I don’t feel that way with the new picture of it, though, because it just is not the same at all.
The old Peanut Brittle House which inspired this dream is below:
So I was explaining to my little boy how I used to make up all sorts of worlds and stories, then act them out–by myself–on the school playground. (Nobody else could do the parts “right,” so I played them all myself.) I’ve written about this here, here and here.
He’s 9; at that age, I had a large cast of characters which I made with my hands, basically hand puppets: Figure 8, dogs, cats, one or two humans, Rubber Duck (from the song Convoy).
I pretended to be a human colonist on the 10th planet, Spimpy, but the grass was poison, so we had to stay up on the Kee-Klamp (the name on a piece of playground equipment which was a twisty pipe with several ladders).
I pretended to be Neptune’s moon Nereid, as described here, with a whole host of other heavenly bodies making up the cast in my imagination: the sun, Earth, Mars, Venus, comets, etc. etc.
I pretended to be Pirate Samantha, the pirate cat, who sailed with her clumsy boyfriend Dodo and the captain and the rest of the crew, crapping on the poop deck and looking out the crow’s nest, fighting pirate dogs with trick knives so nobody got killed, and hoping to get dinner from pirate mice and birds.
I described some of this to my son and how I used to act out these stories on the playground.
Then I said that I acted them out by myself, and the other kids would think I was weird.
Then what did that little boy say? What did my precious little boy say?
He said, “I can see that.”
MY OWN SON!
Grumble grumble….But at least I’ve taught him how to spell my real name correctly. Practically everybody on the planet spells it wrong, even on documents, even when I’ve already spelled it correctly for them. But my son can spell it!
Thinking my little boy has inherited my brain….His daddy tells him that since he found out yesterday that Mommy didn’t want my son drinking Kool-Aid but milk for lunch, he’s not going to make that same mistake twice. What does my son focus on? “It wasn’t Kool-Aid, it was pop.” LOL
Focusing on the details and missing the big picture: that’s common for NVLD. This tendency of NVLD kids to focus on details is sometimes called “being a little lawyer.” You’ll tell them they can’t do something, but they’ll find some way that your reason is invalid, and try to argue around it.
My little boy does that all the time. Drives me nuts and I have to try to guide him out of it so it doesn’t cause him trouble later….Though, if he does become a lawyer, this may actually help him. 😉
And I’ve often done it, though I was a lot worse when I was younger. Mom, you should let me do this because…. We shouldn’t break up because…. Okay, maybe we won’t be serious, but how about just dating…. (I found evidence of this in my diaries for both Peter and Shawn.)
I used to be one of those grammar/spelling nazis on the Net, until I discovered people don’t like that. I’ll be reading an article in the newspaper and focus on the cringeworthy spelling/grammar error (but then, that’s normal for people in my line of work).
But this does make an NVLDer an excellent proofreader. My scores on the entry test I took for SEEK years ago, astounded the person testing me. She said nobody else had done that well before. My filing skills were praised at my last job.
It’s hard to realize, because your brain naturally works this way, that it’s annoying for others, or why it’s annoying. Honestly, we’re not trying to annoy you.
I only learned about this NVLD trait in the last few years, and recognized it in myself.
You just honestly think that those loopholes exist. If that particular thing was not included in the list of “forbidden” items, you’ll think it’s not forbidden, even if your mom meant that all similar things are forbidden, and expects you to understand that.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you that!” is a common refrain.
In my childhood, not only did I act out “Wizard of Oz,” “Alice in Wonderland” and “Star Wars,” but I also invented various elaborate stories which I would act out while outside or on the school playground. I normally played them by myself, since other people didn’t know how to do their parts “right.”
Though I do recall pretending to be foxes one winter day with Chad, Keith, Danny and another little boy, on a day when even the snow was very icy and you could barely walk on the playground without slipping. Our “den” was one of the play tunnels, which was painted like a hollow log….
I was also mostly by myself as a child, since my brothers were much older and liked “boy” stuff, and while there were a few kids in the neighborhood, they didn’t often come over–and a few of them were too mean to play with. But with my stories, I barely noticed that I was the only one. I intend to write a series of posts on my different stories. I also mention some of them in my posts about life with NVLD.
One of my stories started when I was 8 years old and in third grade. The teacher took us out on the playground one day and assigned each of us a planet, a satellite, or the sun. Then she had us all stand in various places based on where the sun was and where each planet was, to demonstrate to us just how large the solar system is.
I was a satellite, Nereid, and went to stand by a girl named Jessica who was Neptune. I also remember the girl who was the sun, though I don’t remember her name; she had a pointy, knit cap with a ball on the top. It was winter, so I was wearing a certain beige coat which I really liked, which had a hood and a cloth belt, and I wore black boots.
I was so enchanted by this game the teacher had us play, that I began acting it out by myself, whether at home, in the church basement while my dad set up the microphones, or at the playground. In fact, I associate that old church basement–the square-shaped hallway with the drain on the floor–with these stories.
I also wrote stories about it and drew pictures, with myself as Nereid, in the same coat and boots, and with little curls in my hair that I didn’t have in real life. Nereid had to wear a coat because she was in the outer reaches of the solar system, far from the sun.
Every such being, or heavenly body–whether planet, moon, sun, asteroid, or comet–was eight years old, just like me, and always would be eight years old. The Asteroid Patrol was the police force. The beings would walk on metal walkways in space, so they wouldn’t fall into nothingness. Instead of “Martian,” beings on Mars would be called “Marslings” (as in “Earthlings”), and same for the “lings” of any other planet. Sun-chips and star-chips, flashy bits taken from suns and stars, were used as money.
Nereid was constantly getting separated from Neptune, unlike the other moon Triton, another girl, who behaved and stayed nearby. So on the one hand Nereid was always looking for Neptune and would be happy and relieved when she found her. But on the other hand, she had all sorts of adventures. I wish I could remember even half of them.
One of my classmates, Keith, also ended up in these stories, even though I don’t recall him actually playing this game with me in real life. He had somehow ended up trapped on the planet of Mouseooine, named after Tatooine, where everybody dressed in mouse costumes (yes, like furries), and the young princess was in love with Keith–but he, typical boy, kept trying to put her off.
Venus was a beautiful girl surrounded all over her head and body with chilled silver jewelry (what showed up to Earthlings as clouds), which kept her cool near the Sun. The ringed planets had rings either around their bodies or around their heads, depending on how I felt like drawing it that day.
Earth was a boy whom Nereid had a crush on, but he had a crush on Venus. Earth’s creatures were like an infestation on his head, since the head was the planet itself; the other planets were fascinated by them.
Mars was a redheaded girl. The little ball on the Sun’s hat (her sun-hat) is what provided the fire and heat of the sun. She could take off the hat and point it at Nereid, a ray would come out of the little ball, and Nereid would then shrink to human-size, and go visit Keith on Mouseooine. Then the Sun would use her sun-hat on Nereid again so she could go back to normal moon-size.
In middle school, I drew a daily comic strip which was, in a tragic accident, somehow lost during one of our moves in adulthood. It was silly and bizarre, the sort of humor middle school kids might love, set in an alternative reality of my middle school, with Star Wars and other strange fashions instead of actual 1985 fashions, monsters, a woman who was literally stick-thin, a news anchor named Pretty Face who had 1985-fashionable hair and had to fend off suitors, magic, genies, a resurrected Cleopatra, a 50s-style soda shop in the air where all the kids hung out, and various other things.
In college, I found these old strips and began writing a more adult version, only I called it “Sol-Sys Blues” and based it on a version of the solar system game; the characters were now growing up.
I found two story fragments written about the solar system when I was a young child, probably no older than 12.
My mom was a cleaning lady, cleaning the houses of people at our church, and also a bank in a nearby town, and other businesses; she would take me with her. Later, one of my brothers helped her as well, but in the beginning it was just her.
Probably when I was around 8 or 9, she started bringing home boxes and boxes of discarded form letters from the bank: usually letters which scolded for non-payment or were sent with loan coupons, letters which were blank on one side and perfect for me to write stories on.
I recall checking the Encyclopedia Brittanica at one house, probably when I was no older than 9 or 10, looking up information about the solar system, and writing stories on the old bank paper about Nereid, as my mom cleaned the house.
These are the two fragments. Based on the references to choosing school courses, French and handwriting–which is legible (to me, at least, because it’s mine), in cursive, and full of strange little variants I had developed to make my handwriting pretty and interesting, unlike everybody else’s cursive–I must have been 12 when I wrote the first one.
I believe “earliest Hebrew” was chosen because I thought that Adam and Eve must have spoken this. I was a very religious child, raised in the Nazarene Church, with no smoking, dancing or drinking, and with a premillennial dispensationalist, creationist theology:
The Sun was the name given to all the suns, girl or boy, firstborn, middleborn or lastborn, or origin. It was in the language of the most important planet’s inhabitants, of course, because that was the language of the solar system.
If the important planet’s inhabitants spoke more than one language, the first language ever given, or the majority languages, were given; but they all could speak all the languages in the universe!
But this particular system spoke earliest Hebrew; and so their words had to be written in English in this book. Besides, I don’t know earliest Hebrew.
Each sun was created by God and put in the care of the galaxy ruler. This galaxy was the Milky Way.
Our sun was, of course, named The Sun; she was a girl with brown curls for hair. When she was three years old she had to begin her training.
First she had to know what kind of star she was. The galaxy ruler, or garu, took a small, metallic object with a scale and put it on The Sun’s head. The scale had three points–Large, Middle-Sized and Small. The scale moved and the arrow pointed to “Middle-Sized.” Under each point was a number, and under The Sun’s point was the number “8.” That meant, when she was eight she’d stop growing.
She was given a textbook and, when she learned to read all words, she read the book whenever assigned in her school. It was written in the fastest-writing and -reading language in the universe–Sheeshu.
The school near the middle of the galaxy for Milky-Way Students was a space station orbiting a substitute sun. The Sun got there by riding a bullet-shaped capsule, and lived in the room she was assigned to. Now let me tell you about her first ractul, or seven days (to her each day was 30 hours, school time):
The first day was exciting and unsure and unsettled. The Sun had to be given a school name, Misa. That was because every sun there had the same name! The language was Milky Wayan, and “Misa” meant “sun on the edge of the galaxy.”
“Misa” landed in a large room with asteroid-workers everywhere. Some of them helped her get out, and her bag of clothes and oral hygiene supplies were put on a cart that moved along a metal track leading to the office. When the cart came back, The Sun got on it, but near the office it turned on a fork and went into the office door. The baggage had gone into a smaller door on the side of the room.
The Sun got up and stood at the desk. The secretary asked her questions, and this form was filled out:
school name: ___________ from what galaxy? Milky Way what part? very edge name of system Solar System home room no.: 123 age: 3 years type: Middle-Sized age to stop: 8 meaning of school name: ________
“So you’re a misa,” said the secretary, and wrote next to the words “school name:” “Misa,” and put its meaning in the blank for it.
“Your school name is ‘Misa.’ Here’s your form, and you have to fill out this paper.” The secretary put a black paper and yellow pencil in front of her and told her to choose her classes.
“I can’t read this; I haven’t been taught!”
“Oh, yes; I forgot! Now here’re your required courses:
“Math; Spelling; Writing; Reading; Universal Science and Universal Studies.” She told the same thing to the computer, which typed everything she said. “Now your courses to choose from are Home-ec, which prepares you to be a Sun;–”
“I’ll take that.”
“–Singing; Art; Gym; Educational Games and Job Study, which tells you better about all the jobs in the universe. Everybody seems to like to take the last one; I’d advise it. Choose two of those for this seven weeks.”
“Um–Job Study and–Singing.”
“Okay. Uh–Computer, type in ‘Job Study and Singing.'” The tiny screen of the computer got three more words on it. It had a keyboard, but that was only used when necessary. A switch was flipped and the computer was able to understand voice commands. [Here is a picture of a computer which looks like your typical 1985 computer.]
“Computer–shuffle around.” The computer mixed around the subjects and they turned out like this–Reading, Writing, Spelling, Universal Science, Math, Universal Studies, Singing and Job Study.
Then she said, “Computer, add times.” The screen showed:
When the computer had printed in yellow on a black piece of paper, the secretary tore it…
[next three pages are missing]
…were trying to figure it out. “In Sheeshu,” she said, “the letter stands for the sound ‘kuh.'”
“‘Kuh’ is no number.”
“Oh–numbers! Then the letter could be ‘8’! Do you have a room number with that number in it?”
“I don’t remember. I think so.”
“Check the room number ‘128’!”
So they walked over to room 128, both dragging their luggage with them. Misa knocked on the door, and a man opened it; they shoved the paper toward him and asked if there were any 8’s in the room number.
“No,” he said; “but your room number is 123. Must be one of you reads Sheeshu to know this is 128! Well, go to room 123; that’s your homeroom number!”
“Dut dut!” Sheesheetu called, which meant several things–this time, “Good-bye” and “Thank you” at the same time.
They looked for room 123, with Sheesheetu reading the Sheeshu numbers.They came to a room numbered: [marks resembling 118] which didn’t match the sheet, which said: [marks resembling 11S] but it was “123” in Sheeshu. They knocked, and the woman named “Mrs. Mara,” who spoke Misan especially, answered. Lucky for them, they found their room, because after half an hour it was already nearing 8:00!
Mrs. Mara had told them to put their things in the corner of the room where others had put their own, and take out the following materials from their own luggage–textbook, pencil, pen, paper–and go to their desk. Written in Sheeshu, the placecards were easy for Sheesheetu to read.
The others were shopping around with their eyes on the fifth floor, and should be back pretty soon.
When it was 8:01 and everyone was back in their seats, they were told to open their books to the part labeled (it was written on the board): [Sheeshu writing] It was the sixth section. [scribbles meant to represent Sheeshu writing]
They were taught a few paragraphs from the first section, each sentence written differently but meaning the same. For example: [sentences in French, English and Sheeshu]
Each book was large and written in small letters. This was so all languages in the entire universe that ever was and ever would be would fit on a quarter of the page!
These, if you’re interested, were the Sheeshu sentences for the two sentences described in four languages:
They would be pronounced: Kuh-ee olg kuh-eye bhft. Kuh-ee gol kuh-eye bum.
Sheesheetu, of course, had no problem reading those Sheeshu sentences!
Mrs. Mara was especially interested in Misa, because they both spoke Misan (most ancient Hebrew) as official languages. She was concerned she couldn’t read her own language, and the rest of the class could! So, she wrote on the board: [scribbles representing Misan writing]
That was the way it was written at the time. Then it was written the way Earthlings would someday write it.
By 9:20 everyone in the class could read a paragraph from every single language ever! They took their book, paper, pencil and pen to whatever their next class would be (except for those who stayed in the same class, of course!).
Misa and Sheesheetu had Mrs. CShCeer (KUSH-keer) next, rm. 124, Sheeshu-speaker, for Writing. Sheesheetu was her favorite student because they both spoke and read the same language.
That day they practiced making all lines and rounded lines.
Next for Misa was Mr. CShCeer; for Sheesheetu his wife, Mrs. CShCeer. In that class the lesson was on spelling rules for Sheeshu, which was mostly used in the TB and was important to know.
At 12:10 was lunch. Mr. CShCeer took his class to lunch.
There was a lunchroom on every floor; for the fifth floor, it was a real good restaurant that costs the cheapest monetary unit for all–the raktuluh–for each meal. There was a real rich sun named Tuka (“rich sun on side of galaxy”) who liked to insist on using a sun-chip (the highest monetary unit of all), so eventually all meals were free.
Everyone ate in the small lunchroom for Mr. CShCeer’s class until 12:15, the time to start the next class. Then they were all to go to the room for their next teacher’s class. Misa couldn’t understand.
She went up to Mr. CShCeer with her shere in her hands, holding it by its two handles. “I don’t know where to go,” she said. “I don’t have my schedule with me.”
This was an experience! Misa could be late to class! And how’d she know where to go?
She met up with Sheesheetu, who was going to the lunchroom reserved for Mrs. SunCeer’s class.
“Well, let’s see if you belong in my class,” she said, leading her away.
The sphere-tray was a shere colored different colors each with two handles on its sides to carry it. It was split down the middle, and you opened it and flattened it down, and the food and everything was put in attached boxes all over the tray. Milk and silverware was also put there.
It was finally 3:00! Everyone returned to HR (homeroom), but for a bit it wasn’t exactly like home because:
For one thing, everyone had half an hour to finish homework because with those just going to school it’s not easy to get a lot of homework!
For Misa, there was no homework until Universal Science. All that was was finding the distance a certain bawling ball (slight version of “bowling ball”) would roll until it hit the gitter (gutter). (With this study, it’s no wonder those schools turn out so many good heavenly body-bawlers!)
In Math, Misa had ten simple-simple! addition problems; for Universal Studies just to read about what different jobs there are in their galaxy; and in Job Study, to read and answer five questions about the Asteroid Patrol.
All answers were written in either pen or pencil in the book.
At 3:30, Mrs. Mara asked if everyone was done with their homework, which they were, and then took them to the rec floor–the fifth floor. Everyone was put into the large elevator to go upstairs. The doors were opened by a push of a button, and closed the same way.
The bawling alley was something like a bowling alley; mechanical setting of pins, ball returns; but lines marked where the gitters were.
At 5:30 they all filed into the free, mall restaurant in the south wing.
[Schedule:] 30 hours 10 hours of sleep 9 hours of after school therefore, 10 hours of school
8:00AM-3:00PM–school 3:00PM-12:00AM–after school 12:00AM-7:00AM–10 hours of sleep [sic]
3-3:30–homework 3:30-5:30–bawling 5:30-7:30 (at the latest)–dinner 7:30-9:30–shop or browse at mall (at 7:30 give allowance) 9:30-10:30–free time 10:30-11:30–bosketball (basketball) 11:30-12:00–free time ***END***
The following is a fragment depicting Keith’s adventures on Mouseooine, where he, like the natives, dressed in a mouse costume. It was probably written when I was about 10. I think they had to hide that they were Earthlings, and pretend to be from Mouseooine, probably so they wouldn’t get killed:
…”Hysterical, not histerical, isn’t it, Gary?” corrected Trera.
“Well, I say it histerical,” remarked Gary. So both pulled until Mike was up. She had forgotten the buttons, so she pushed the top and bottom ones, then stepped very cautiously unto the stand. The crocodiles swam away, clicking their snouts angrily, a good dinner lost. **** “Yes, King Zrooine, is who we want to see.”
“We?” the messenger puzzled, then saw the four children. “Yes.”
After hearing that, King Zrooine, a 12-year-old, asked 10-year-old Princess Zango (zayng’go), “Zango, should we send my messenger or you to tell Keith to come here?”
“Keith?” Then Zango glanced at the waiters, then replied, “If it’s so; me.”
“Then you shall be it.” So Zango walked over to them, and jumped at the sight.
“Huh? I thought only you were here, Keith! Who are these people? I never saw them before! Oh, well; King says you may go to him.”
So Keith came and kneeled, the employees following. “Do we have to kneel on one knee?” asked Mike, reluctantly.
“No; you’re not the one presenting the employees!” answered Keith, whispering but snappishly.
“So; Keith; I see you brought four boys with you. What do you want?…Speak! Don’t wait when I tell you to answer!”
“Oh…These four boys here want royal jobs. Uh…Uh…”
“Mike Grindstone,” prompted Mike. “Pilot.”
“Mike Grindstone, here, wants to be pilot,” replied Keith.
“I heard,” said King Zrooine.
“Uh…Uh…,” Keith fumbled.
“Tom Sanders,” prompted Tom. “Gun-maker.”
“Gary Lang,” said Gary. “Navigator.”
“Trera Baker,” said Trera. “Co-pilot.”
“And so did Gary and Tom. So come with me to the King.”
They followed, and the King said, “So? Did all pass?”
“Yea,” answered Keith.
“And so, Keith, take them to their next stations,” said Zrooine.
“Yes, sir,” replied Keith. So he took Mike and Trera to their starcruiser, Gary to her [sic] navigating test, and Tom to her [sic] gun-checking point.
On the way to the star cruiser, Mike asked, “Now what’s the name of this star cruiser?”
Keith put his arms out and cried, What do you care about the name? It’s just a test!” There, he said, “Now, Mike, you’re the pilot; climb up the co-pilot’s ladder, and stand by the controls. Trera, you are the co-pilot, sit there. I’ll be a passenger.”
So Mike climbed up the co-pilot’s ladder, Trera after her. She stood by the controls, Trera held fast to the controls by her, and Keith sat in the first passenger seat.
Mike pushed a top button, a bottom button, a middle button, and a button for medium. Then she gave a signal by pounding the controls on top to Trera, and the ship went up.
Then, when they were down, Keith said, “So, that’s all?”
“Keith!” cried Mike. “What if I’m forced to be co-pilot?”
“And I’m the only person on the ship?”
“Oh, all right.” So the test went in reverse.
Keith brought them to another ship, after Mike slid down her controls, and had them drive that. Trera went in, and Mike and Keith on top.
At Gary’s place, she navigated correct, at Tom’s, her guns were correctly checked.
On their way to Zrooine’s palace, Gary said, “Sand people there–or worse! Hurry!” as a joke.
“So!” said Mike. “You saw Star Wars on Earth, huh?”
“On Earth?” said Keith. “Oh, yeah.”
Trera whispered to Mike, “You dummy! You’ll get us into trouble by-‘n’-by!”
When I was twelve and in seventh grade, I wrote a story about Earthlings going to live on Mars. I used my already-established universe of living heavenly bodies, in this story.
The people were in some vehicles which were suddenly lifted into the air and put on Mars; they could hear around them:
“Yes, Mars, my girl, put them on you and they can live! Trust me, I know these things!”
“Aw, but Nereid, I wanted them to be enlarged by the Sun’s sun-hat and let them live like that while I pray of God that he change my obliquity to 30 degrees and I prepare the air around me!”
“I’m Nereid, Neptune’s moon! Would I ever steer you wrong?!”
“Well, you sure seem to steer yourself wrong a lot in that you never seem to stick with Neptune and/or Triton!”
“Yeah, well, Earth always steers me right again! I go to him for his superior advice!”
“Ya know, I think you have a crush on him!”
“I have for the last thousand years had a crush on him!”
“Then it isn’t a crush or infatuation, it’s love! Go after the boy! He’s God’s pick for you!”
“But I’m shy!”
“Well, then, it’s simple! Earth doesn’t like you yet, but what you do is go on that planet-moon picnic with him next picnic day! Have you noticed? You two have been paired on the schedule! Impress him; act sweet and nicely yourself! When he’s started to notice you, write a note a week later and put it in his mailbox–ask him to go with you! Simple as all that! Remember, I caught the tenth planet, Ihfundit, that way, about three of Venus’ years ago, and notice we’ve been married a year so far!”
That gave hope to the one voice, Nereid, as she said:
“See me married to Earth in two Mercury years–176 Earth-days! For Earth, less than a year!”
Then it sounded like someone was walking away on metal. Then the person came back, saying: “Oh! I forgot! Give this to the Earthlings! Open your hand!”
“No; they’ll die if I do!”
“Then move a finger a little! Now, you wouldn’t want those Earthlings to become Marslings just yet until they have their explanation! Here, lings!” And something black fell what seemed out of the space there. Then the walking-on-metal was heard again.
Someone got the paper, which was written on in white chalk. It must be whoever wrote it knew how to write American or something, because that’s how the words were written. The person, Cyndy Ferraro, read out loud and very loudly so all could hear:
You lings obviously are wondering what’s happening here, so I’ll tell you. You see, to someone small like you, the universe looks as you imagine it. But grow to our size, and you can see the planets as people.
We used to call each other our own name, but your names for us are so nice we call each other by your names for us.
Well, you know Mars is barren. Earth isn’t. Mars saw you on Earth and asked God what you were up to.
When she found out, she asked God for permission to get you from Earth and be her own lings, which Earth allowed. You can’t see us, but Mars had to put you in her hands to keep you safe.
When you’re put on Mars’ head you can build even spaceships if you want! If you wonder how I know, that red planet told me.
Neptune’s moon besides Triton, Nereid.
A scientific breakthrough! The planets obviously were alive, though drilling like for oil or digging or such didn’t hurt them!
They were now free from planetary laws, but not from human laws, so the Bibles, until the Judgement, would always be studied. Well, now it was 70 degrees on Mars’ equator, and everyone was put on the equator.
They found a pile of boxes, labeled in Sheeshu (a fast-writing and saying language in space), and on top was a booklet of instructions written by the planet and translated by the moon. It told everyone about the money in the boxes, sun-chips and star-chips.
It was easy to collect in space–asteroid workers were always producing the money and sending it into space to just float around.
The universal money was also used as food and building materials, and such as that.
(Oh, if I forgot to tell you; the lings were given oxo-hats, hats that fasten to the neck with a drawstring, and have two “antlers” on the top to convert air with plant-like mechanisms in the balls.
(It was also explained how to make more of this, besides how to build a “sunbuilding” (building made out of sun-chips) in an hour because in about 90 minutes the temperature would start to drop to dangerous temperatures.
(When it was read how long they had, everyone who could, started immediately to build!)
On August 29, 1986, when just starting eighth grade, I had to write sentences to go along with vocabulary words. I wrote:
2. Citizens of Mouseooine were noted for their steady practice of deceit when it came to the moons and planets.
6. Mouseooinelings capturing moons and/or planets was a frequent happening. [This explains why Nereid kept ending up there with Keith.]
19. The moon finally had triumph over the planet Mouseooine.