The Adventures of Reginald P. Worthington

Hey guys! Sorry it has been a while! I would; however, like to share the beginning of my "Reginald" stories with you guys though.  

(They are the characters from the previous post.  Reginald and Red.)

Don't focus on grammar and spelling cause I have not edited it yet, but let me know what you think. Feedback on flow or ideas would be great though. 

The Adventures of Reginald P. Worthington

Because we are using our imagination, and imagination is such a powerful sort of tool, we must now poof ourselves some wings.  Wings are such a jolly thing to have in that we may fly wherever we like without the unfortunate disappointment of stepping in any unappealing substances.  I hope you are imagining the colour and shape of your wings as well as just having them, for it is a great deal easier to control if you know them inside and out.  Now that we have our wings, we may as well imagine ourselves invisible so dear little Reginald wont see us and be troubled by our appearance for his heart is not what it used to be.  Understand that when I say little, I am not referring to him being of a young age.  I am merely commenting on his size in ratio to ours, for he is about the length of one of your fingers.  Now do not be alarmed, his whole world exists in a small chunk of land a hop skip and a jump away from my very own living quarters.  Feel not sorry for him in the slightest, for because of this he is not aware of the great many troubles that could find him, with him being so minuscule.

As soon as we shrink ourselves to his height we may head out on our adventure.  There is a slight bit of traveling involved since he lives down the street, and as you may have forgotten we are a quite a bit smaller. However, we do have wings, and this makes it a great deal faster while traveling. I do hope you left a door or window open, due to the fact that it is quite hard to convince someone to do it for you when you are small and invisible. 

Upon exiting your dwelling place, turn the corner and continue straight on and forward.  Make sure you pass the smallish dog whom you may want to do unspeakable acts to on account of the loud noises he makes so early in the morning, the park inhabited by gossiping mothers, their crying babies sitting oh so miserably beside them, and the busybody peaking through her blinds in hopes to catch an innocent walker-byer in order to collect all their hopes and dreams, or you shall not reach the forest in which I speak.  You would have a whole different adventure than the one I am trying to take you on right now.  Moreover, if I am going to such lengths to explain the perfect way to arrive, it is only fitting that you agree to continue on this journey with me today.  Tomorrow you may set out on your own if you wish. 

Once you have passed those landmarks you are nearly there.  In front of you, there should be a street in which you should cross.  Of course I mean to say, after you have looked both ways.  That would be highly improper of me to remind you about this rule, considering you may have forgotten in your excitement. Proceed to cross the street and follow the path entering the woods.  Once you hit the spot where the light hits the trees, and the birds sing so happily you feel like it is an extension of your own heart, there you will know you are at the entrance. 

Now this is quite important, upon entering, you must think of your most favourite memory while closing your eyes as tightly as you can.  When you open your eyes, if you squeezed hard enough you may open them to find the most enchantingly beautiful little forest you have ever seen. Your eyes will be open to seeing a great deal of these tiny animals whom you never knew existed.  All the animals are tiny, even the great big bear that lives at the top of the hill to your right. 

Please beg my pardon, I tend to get distracted when talking about the forest but I came to tell you about Reginald today, and that I shall.  If you locate the large log which has made its home across the creak, then look about three human steps to the right, you may perhaps see a little door in the earth.  This door is more horizontal then vertical, on account of weasels living underground.  It is such a cute little door, completely round in its innocence, with a little carving of a tea cup in the middle so he always knows which house is his.  You must never mention to him how adorable his door is, for he went to insurmountable lengths to make his door a respectable look.  If you must comment, use significant phrases, such as distinguished, on-the-beam or well-thought-of. 

If we are very quiet we may enter his home and watch him wake.  Reginald McFarthington is not your typical weasel.  He is quite dignified and rather polite.  He is not sneaky, two-timing or evil like his family or the rest of his kind.  Nobody quite knows why he is so unlike his brothers and sisters, but I heard it has something to do with an uncle he dislikes very much. Well however he came to be like this I am grateful because he is a delightful old chap, and is quite good company when one desires to discuss topics such as the personality of a fig root, or the essence of a pond.  Though you see, tea may possibly be his most favourite topic in all the world. His whole house is filled with his own recipes, which he creates himself and drinks every morning.  At precisely seven-o-three he wakes up, slips his feet in to his moss slippers, puts on his glasses and heads for the kitchen.  Let us see which tea he will choose today.  Oh splendid! He is reaching for my favourite, dewdrops of a twig.