The Psychotic Preschoolers

By Thomas D. Bryson

Its been said there are no guarantees in life. Heres a guarantee you can bank on: Open this book and youll see that youve never met preschoolers like theseinimitable, wholly unique, and quirky, each with a distinctive agenda and way of looking at the world. These interconnected stories are full of whimsy and heart and color. They show us that our differences, rather than keeping us apart, should bind us together. Whether you relate to the beleaguered teacher or harried principal or to any one of the dazzling array of winning tots themselves (or a bit of all of them!), youre sure to laugh out loud while reading. At the books core, youll discover the power of creativity, the strength of imagination, the audacity of wishes, the excitement of synthesis, and the breathtaking potential of our minds. With unforgettable and vividly-drawn characters like Clarice (and the Odor Police), Jack (and the Intolerable Yak), and Abby (and the Bit Too Grabby), theres something for everyone, of all temperaments and ages.

The Psychotic Preschoolers is perfect as a collection of read-aloud bedtime stories for kids or as a fun way for adults to de-stress after another day in the grind. Whether you savor each charmingly rhymed and cleverly-conceived story on an individual basis, or plunge into them all and appreciate the breadth and scope of the entire book, youll come away with new admiration for and insight into the child mind, a mind that is not inferior to the adult version in any way, and actually, possesses a special clarity all its own. It is that sparkling specialness that the author has captured in these pages. And no matter how grumpy your day may have made you, you cant help but smile when you powwow with these preschoolers guaranteed!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477259399

Thomas D. Bryson

Thomas Bryson is a Grandfather who proves that Grandpa's have the ability to tell “whoppers.” This trilogy was written for his target audience of five grandchildren. The Ouroh Trilogy; “Ouroh,” Here on Ohverthere,” and “The war of the Words,” was meant to teach them about life’s realities through the safety of a fantasy. He strove to teach them the value of the language, grammar, and words by bringing words to life in the form of a Neologism. There are over a hundred pages in the “Our Encyclopedic Dictionary” to define the words and the background of the Multiverses, so as, not to distract the reader from the essence of the trilogy. The stories progress to match his grandchildren’s maturity, life experiences, and intellectual prowess. That is the reason why the trilogy was released in its entirety and not as separate works. Although the power enabling the abilities beyond “life’s abilities” is based in the concept of the creation of a Living Script; the author strove to refrain from the religious beliefs that we have labeled as religions. He sought to make his grandchildren think upon a belief, without enticing them to believe. That is their choice. The path that they will follow will be their own. In this he hoped to portray the fact that reality and fantasy are both valuable on the path of our human experience.

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2012 by Thomas D. Bryson. All rights reserved.

Illustrations by: © Duncan Long

No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, holographic or telepathic, without prior permission from the author.

This work is fictional! All the characters and character events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. If your name happens to be the same as a character in this book, blame your parents. I didn’t name you!

The Psychotic Preschoolers: Unpublished work © Thomas D. Bryson registered 28 April, 2008 TXu 1-649-734.

WARNING

This book is rated US (Unguided Silliness).

The words can infect the reader!

Published by AuthorHouse 07/27/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5940-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5938-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5939-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012914477

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Joyce Who Gained a Voice

Eli and the Half-Fly

Naqi

Tommy-Tommy Couldn’t Hop

Barb and the Bodacious Bubble

Petey and the Wouldn’t It Be Neaty?

Ruth and the Terrible Truth

Timmy Fixx and the Time Tics

Deb and the Dutiful Don’ts

Clair and the Squinty Glare

Katy the Copycat

Jack and the Intolerable Yak

Mabel and the Never-Ending Fable

Yohan and the No-Plan

Little Donny Down and the Insatiable Frown

Flo and the Algophobia

Juan and the Perfect One

Nell and the Swell Parallel

Simber and the Couldn’t Remember

Chrischell and the Perfect Pixels

Wen Che and the ABC’s

Blair and the Scaleable Scare

Wally and the Wonder Wag

Wild Jill Hiccup and the Shadow Stickup

Jake and the Gimme-a-Break

Jewel and the Rigidy Rules

Craig Wellzee and the Ugots’ta Tells Me

Clarice and the Odor Police

Jim and the All-for-Him

Prissy and the Way Too Messy

Bali and the Infinite Tally

Maxine and the Sax Thing

Nels and the Tattle Tales

Tiaret and the Invisible Net

Snuffy and His New Puppy!

Alfhild and the Thing that Drives Her Wild

Uma and the Limpy Shoe

Simon and the Don’t Say

Sophie Choy and the Wave of Joy

Nyack and the Imagination Attack

Darlene and the Trauma Team

Randal and the Whisper Scandal

Greta and the Regretta Stone

Alan Picks and the Unruly Hair

Paula Plumb and the Green Thumb

Sean and the Canady’s On!

Babette and the Soldierette

Shep and the I’ll Get It Right Yet!

Weezee and the Mac-and-Cheesy

Tarmo and the Getgo

Michi and the Misty Mystique

Buzzy and the Warm-and-Fuzzy

René and the Get-Their-Ways

Billy O’Myly and Behind the Smiley

Harris and the Mostest Fairest

Wizzy and the Gee

Lola and the Let Me Show Ya

Mike and the Mechanical Mumble

Hillary and the Cilly (pronounced Silly) Bee

Beauregard and the No Regard

Michelle and the Wishing Well

Sam and the Sleepy Plan

Ann and the Perfect Plan

Xzavier and the Scratchy Bear

Page and the Text Rage

Lou and the Opinion Goo

Dominique and the Hide and Seek

Darryl and the Everything Sterile

Abby and the Bit Too Grabby

Carl and the Political Snarl

Alex and the Googolplex

Daisy and the Can’t Be Lazy

What if wishes

were not the beginning of dreams?

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Sam, Tina, Xzavier, Kairi, and Kiana for being good grandkids. Thanks to my brothers and sisters, and nieces and nephews for allowing me to stay crazy. Thanks to Grandma for giving Grandpa the time to lose his mind and putting her special touches on the process. And a special thank you to everybody who said that I belong in a nut house, and didn’t turn me in!

Thank you to the meticulous copyeditor Lucia Zimmitti of manuscriptrx.com.

No less of a thank you to the gifted cover artist Duncan Long of duncanlong.com.

Grandpa aka Uncle Tom aka Oldman

And of course, the Ornery Old Fart

P.S. A special thanks to Miller Lite®

Introduction

In early childhood, a psychotic moment is simply the world not making sense to a pure and simple thought. The laws of physics, the rules of civilization, and the mores of interaction do not apply. Furthermore, it is an acceptable part of development. It is most often observed in a group of toddlers when their conflicting worlds of ME collide. The result is catastrophic and short in duration. If you’ve ever listened to children play, you know their world reaches far beyond reality. When necessary, we resolve the what ifs and I wishes of their world with nary a second thought. In the Psychotic Preschoolers, a what if or I wish are under the authority of the CWC (Center for Wish Control). Yes, there are Wish Operators on call.

My love of the language and free writing is often sparked by an adult’s personality abnormality. It is those things that are out of place in the adult realm, simply different, or quaint that kindles my inspiration. For I feel that we never truly leave the child behind. What we are and how far we progress in life are too often determined by what we’ve learned to leave behind. We should never be ashamed of a youthful trait unless there is harm in what we do. There is a kid in all of us, and with that, we are all similar in our individuality.

In The Psychotic Preschoolers, no harm is done that can’t be healed with a nap, a distraction, the passing of the moment, cancellation by the CWC, or simply turning the page. Written for pure fun, I hope the reader adopts the spirit in which the stories were written. No harm, no foul, just a big whopping WOW! for the sake of a smile. Like ugly cherubs, the psychotic preschoolers will grow on you! After a dozen stories, they actually get loveable.

I did not and probably never will have a commercial target audience in mind. I quite simply have fun hammering on the keyboard. As always, I admire serious writers, and truly hope that I do not offend the professional community with my doodling.

I’m a grandpa… give me a break!

Joyce Who Gained a Voice

This is a story about Joyce. Joyce is a little girl who is very rude. She always wants all of the attention. If you are standing in line, Joyce will butt in. If you are coloring, she will take your color. If you are speaking, she will interrupt. This is what happened one day in preschool when the Teacher asked why the world was round.

All hands went up—way up—in the air.

Fingers were waving with thoughts to share.

The Teacher picked Ronnie, who started to speak.

But before his first word, Joyce let out a screech!

I know, I know, I know! Joyce screamed.

But before the Teacher could give Joyce a scolding…

Joyce’s mouth started twitching,

Joyce’s tongue started folding.

There was a strange look in her eye.

With her nose curled up she said, Oh my!

in Ronnie’s voice.

Joyce gained a voice and Ronnie could not speak.

Joyce said, Oh, dear! and the Teacher’s stomach felt weak.

Joyce’s gain was the Teacher’s loss!

Her voice was twice as loud as before.

Joyce spoke again and gained one more.

Joyce gained a voice, without a choice!

Joyce knew then she was in trouble.

Her mind was spinning, a spinning bubble.

Another word, another voice, and the loudness… Quintaoppsed!

Another blurb, without choice, and everything… Sumbloopsed!

No one could help her; their words could not come out.

Joyce’s voice was like thunder, no longer a shout!

Within minutes, Joyce’s voice traveled around the earth.

She shook the world for what it’s worth.

Joyce went silent after the earthquake.

For one more word and the world would break.

Joyce couldn’t talk to anyone, and no one could speak.

So Joyce lowered her hand without a peep.

Eli and the Half-Fly

This is a story about Eli. Eli is a little boy who never finishes anything. If you ask him to take the garbage out, you’ll find it halfway across the yard. If you ask him to pick up his room, he only picks up one-half of it. This is what happened one day in preschool when Eli was playing Wiffle ball.

Eli wasn’t the ultimate shirker.

He’d do half a job well.

In a way, he was a good worker.

But bragging rights could only puff-up a half swell.

It wasn’t laziness, he wasn’t sloven.

And he never stopped to think

how he could shirk a task imposed or chosen.

Eli lacked the lackadaisical link!

So in point, Eli wasn’t lazy, because lazy is purposelessness. And he wasn’t crazy, because he wasn’t preoccupied with senselessness. Some thought he was a trifle autistic. Others saw him as a true, bisectional mystic. But whatever he was, he was just because he was Eli.

Eli rose to go to school and made half his bed.

Another day, crossed his lips, halfheartedly said.

Eli half combed his hair and brushed half his teeth.

He always alternated lefts and rights, and uppers and lowers.

Given half a chance, Eli was presentable in half belief.

For in half measures, he was in the upper half

of the all-knowers.

Well, it was only thanks to Mother Nature that Eli had a full behind. And it was thanks to Eli’s mother and the fact that she was kind that Eli sat before half a breakfast so he could eat an entire meal, and was driven halfway to school so he could walk in and feel normal! So… to make a long story short, for that is better than half-told, the children ran to recess for sport, and Eli had it half in mind to be bold.

Wiffle ball was the call.

They called, Batter up!

Eli hit the ball between a fly and a bunt.

Run! Run! Run! the children cried.

So Eli ran toward first base with half a care.

Then he stopped in mid-stride.

Eli stopped in mid-air.

He just kinda paused there!

In his bound, he remembered his creed.

To go any further held no need.

So indeed… gravity let him go.

Eli kept half an eye on the ground and half an eye on the sky.

Then he began to drift away with a halfhearted, Oh my.

Eli drifted far, far away: an earth axial rotation, some did say. Eli would have to wait twenty-four hours—and that’s a whole day!—before he could touch down. That is, unless he could somehow find a way home, halfway around.

Naqi

This is a story about Naqi. Naqi is a little girl who lives in a house on top of the world. Naqi is very headstrong, and doesn’t listen to what you say, nor does she believe in right or wrong, she just wants things her way. This is what happened one non-preschool day when Naqi noticed that her boots were worn out.

Naqi didn’t like the patch on her boots.

So she threw them away in a huff with a hoot.

She looked at her mother down her snout.

And like no other, Naqi put on a pout.

Her face grew red, her lip stuck out.

Naqi’s ears started to steam and she screamed,

NEW BOOTS!

No matter how Naqi’s mother tried,

she couldn’t get Naqi to look past her stubborn side.

Naqi was spoiled beyond all repair.

She was spoiled all the way to the point of don’t care.

So finally Naqi’s mother gave up.

She bought Naqi new boots, the kind that laced up.

Naqi didn’t know what to think of the things.

She never had boots that had boot-strings.

Naqi’s mother showed her, tying one boot with a bow.

Naqi grabbed the other and screamed, I know, I know!

Naqi tied her fingers into the bootlaces.

She howled in a fury, with the reddest of faces.

Naqi’s eyes bulged, her cheeks puffed out.

She got so mad she started hopping about.

Naqi’s feet got tangled and she went down with a thump.

She got a knot on her forehead, a big purple lump.

Naqi got so mad she started to spin.

The spin ended with her back up on her feet again.

Naqi knew the snow would cushion her fall.

So she hopped outside, fingers in laces and all.

She hopped too close to the edge of the hill.

Naqi lost her balance and spun right into a spill.

Oh yes, the snow cushioned her fall.

But now Naqi was spinning into a snowball!

Naqi spun around the hill in a big spiral down.

The snowball was getting bigger and bigger

as she passed all the towns.

The snowball swept down the Great Continental Divide.

It was growing bigger than Naqi’s pride.

The snowball rolled from north to south, down the Americas.

Then it jumped onto Antarctica, spinning into hysteria.

The snowball got bigger and bigger until it growed

into a snowball too big for the earth to hold.

The snowball hung from the bottom of the earth by an icicle,

with Naqi hanging under it in quite a pickle.

Naqi looked down her nose past her purple fingers and boots.

She saw the stars and said,

I want my old boots!

Tommy-Tommy Couldn’t Hop

This is a story about Tommy the un-terrible. Tommy was afraid of anything that had the slightest notion of motion. Tommy has something that doesn’t show and it’s called vertigo. This is what happened one day before preschool when Tommy was stuck at the gutter, on the curb, across from the school.

A small stream of water flows.

A puddle, at his feet, grows.

The bright morning sun was glistening off