Writing a chatty article.

Writing a chatty article is not a thing one does in a moment. First, I consulted the dictionary, where it was described as "writing in an easy and witty style" This was in my opinion a bit thin, so I called my dad to see if he could help me out. ( it is, as you may know, that way with fathers, that when you are under seven years old, dad knows everything, when you are between seven and thirteen, dad knows quite a lot. During the teenage however, dad doesnīt know anything. Then the whole procedure somehow reverses, and I am now again of the opinion that my dad knows a lot...)
-Sure, he said, I think I know a great way for you to get the hang of it. Just come over, and I tell you about it. So, I drove down to my parents house, happily thinking about how I soon would know the secret of chatty writing. When I arrived my dad told me that he unfortunatly had forgotten what the idea was, but since I was there anyway, I might just as well help him moving the lawn, cut the hedges and repaint the garage. Next day, I started to read some chatty articles to see if I could get the generall idea. I started taking notes, and after a while I saw a pattern. What I found out was, that the three most common subjects for chatty writing were:

  1. The children, and the things they did.
  2. The pets, and what they did.
  3. A combination of 1 & 2.
Theese facts made me quite worried, since a quick inventorization of the apartment showed that no children were to be found. A casual check with my girlfriend made me sure that my suspicions were right, we had no children. But my girlfriend said she had an idea how to get some. About 45 minutes later, when I got out of the shower, I realized that the idea of hers wouldnīt be of any use right now, but not until nine months from now.
- You could have told me that before, I said, that way I wouldnīt have had to waist my time on stuff like that. Of some strange reason, my girlfriend now developed somewhat of an attitude, and told me where to go.
- Well, I guess itīs a lot warmer there, I said, and started to look for something else to write about.

My second inventorization, for animals this time, turned out to be a minor success. I found a silverfish in the bathtub, a spider on the bedroom wall and a goldfish in a bowl in the kitchen. I told my girlfriend about the spider in the bedroom, but she didnīt believe me obviously, because she went to see for herself, apperantly she decided to read the newspaper to, since she brought that with her. I took a beer and thought about the best way to write a story now that I had this veritable menagerie to write about.
The newspaper canīt have been any good, because my girlfriend returned after a few minutes and throwed it in the trash. And she hadnīt seen any spider she said. When I went to check for myself, I found out that she had been right, the little rascal had obviously went somewhere else in his hunt for food. ( Impolite as he was, he had obviously decided to take a leak first, īcause there was a wet spot where it had been earlier.)
Wet, was my girlfriend too when she re-appeared, since she had taken a shower too. And she hadnīt seen any silverfish... The only animal remaining to write about now, was my goldfish. Much can be said about Calvin (thats his name), but heīs not much fun. His friend Hobbes however was quite funny to look at. First he swam on the side for a few days. Then he must have gone into a winter doze or something, because suddenly he stopped swimming, and lay still on his back. He must have been awake to eat from time to time though, since he was starting to get really fat. Somewhat swollen really. But that dinīt seem to strange to me, as he didnīt get any exercise just lying there. He started to look like a Japanese blow-fish, only without the prickles.
Suddenly, one day he was gone. Much puzzled by this mystical disappearence I asked my girlfriend what she thought about it. She didnīt know anything about the disappearence she said but developed the theory that the doze might have been sort of a metamorphose and that he had become a flying-fish.
That sounded reasonable I thought, and wished him a happy life elsewhere. But Calvin, as I said, aint much fun to write about. My last chance of creating a masterpiece in chatty writing was now to find another animal to write about. I recalled that during my bachelor days, I had some funny creaturs in my food-cabinet. They seemed to live in there, mostly in the flour of some reason. I didnīt mind too much since the big ones were black and the small ones were brown, so they were quite easy to sort out when I had to use the flour. So, I asked my girlfriend if we had any of those in our food-cabinet. That we had not. So, in this sad way, ended my attempts to make a living as a chatty story writer...

This is Calvinpicture of Calvin

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