A Joke (if you can call it that) (I didn't want to call it that anyway, for fear of giving it away)

Here's a true story. I'm no good at telling jokes so it might not be all that dramatic or funny.
In 1994 my grandfather was posted as Commandant at the Army Aviation Engineering School Dhamial Camp, Rawalpindi. He didn't like all the rubbish that everyone had thrown about all over the place, because he is a very neat person. He installed several large dustbins at suitable locations in the school and living quarters, especially near the kitchen and the mess hall. In a follow-up inspection visit, he saw that a lot of garbage had been dumped near the dustbins, but not in them, even though they'd been put there for that purpose. When he asked the kitchen staff why they hadn't thrown the garbage in the dustbins, they (probably shifted uncomfortably and) said: ''They're so pretty. They'd get dirty''.

Smells (I can't write this with a straight face :) hee hee hee)

This may seem weird, but I have a theory that everyone has their own characteristic smell. I guess it might also be influenced by their surroundings as well, like the smell of their house or whatever (homes probably have characteristic smells too!). I don't mean that the smell should necessarily be a bad one. It can usually be a good one. But now that I think of it, everyone probably has a characteristic nasty smell as well. This is a very weird sort of idea, right? But very little babies recognise their mother by her smell, because they can't see well. Hey, a rhyme! I'm not a little baby, so my sense of smell is not that good, but there are two smells I can recognise. The first is my grandfather's. He declares that he has a nasty smell, but I think it's quite pleasant. The other is my great - aunt's, my mother's aunt's. She smells rather nice too, and her house faintly smells the same. You can all laugh at my silliness, but I'm serious. And anyway, most of the reason I wrote this is because it's all I could think of, and I had nothing much to do except read "Pride and Prejudice", which I've already read before. So Sayonara everyone!

Book lovers

It seems to me like there aren't many book lovers outside my family. I mean, I'm sure there are, it's a huge world, but I just haven't met them yet. From my family, the people who are crazy about books, and I mean crazy, are me, of course, my mother, my lala (my aunt, my mother's sister. It's what we call her), my cousin Izma, and Hazo, who is my mother's cousin and Izma's cousin. I've got these people to thank for introducing me to different writers, and, in my mother's case, to introduce me to reading books. If anybody reading this is a book lover, please write a comment. I'd like to have a conversation with you. This could be an opportunity for me to meet people like me. Right? When I said I can't find many book lovers outside my family (it's really not like everyone loves books in my family anyway, I'm talking about a couple of my cousins) it's because at school, in my class, I'm different from everyone, in a way. I don't mean to brag, but, I bet I've read more books than anyone in my class. (I'm sorry if I sound too braggy everyone, especially my classmates). You know, there's a really good idea that my mother and my brothers and I found on somewhere called babble.com. You can make a spreadsheet with the number of books you have read, the name of the author, the title of the book, and the pages of the book. Write down all the story books or other kinds of books you have read and then you can see how many pages you've gone through. I think I'm probably on 6000 or more. I can't remember the exact figure. I'll check it out and let you know.

Note:

Any book lovers out there? Winter vacations will be coming soon and I'm wondering what new books to read. I'm already on Eid vacations so I'm free for a week. Somebody please post a comment and recommend some books. It'll help me make a reading list and probably know about some great writers I never heard of before.

Autumn

Autumn

Winter will Autumn greet,

For the last dance the trees will meet

They change their leaves from green to brown,

To red and yellow and gold

They will dance in the gentle breeze

All will shake and hop and flutter

The leaves will rustle and mutter

Enjoying themselves are the trees

The bird minstrels shall sing

The lovely dryads are dancing, dancing,

Dancing are the trees

Making merry in the festivities

The grasshoppers shall play the harp,

The birds shall play the flute,

The trees shall dance and shake themselves,

Even though they are mute

But right before the autumn ends,

the trees take off their clothes

And the grasshoppers, they go to sleep

The birds do stop their songs,

They all get ready to fly away,

On wings so strong and fleet,

Eyes bright, and

Heads down against the cold

When winter comes, 

The drowsy trees, tired with all their dancing,

He covers with a soft blanket of snow,

And the snowflakes softly, lovingly, kiss them 

 goodnight.

(Note: this was meant to be a free verse poem but I have added some rhyming words as well. I think it could do better with some rearranging and some deleting of some lines (probably unnecessary, but they're all  necessary to me). Give me some feedback, tell me your ideas, and I will (probably) fix or change my poem)

I sit alone. I am reading a book. It is a good book, interesting. But my mind wanders.
Again. I think of the story and wonder what it would be like to travel all over the world. To have an adventure. Just thinking about it makes me want to do it. 
Now. I sigh. It's no use. 
I put down the book and space out into a little daydream. I think about adventure and magic and the best stories I've read. Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and stories of Oz and the adventures of a bunch of normal kids. Not that Harry and Percy are normal, that is. I think of the writers, L. Frank Baum, Roald Dahl, C.S Lewis, Enid Blyton, Rick Riordan, J.K Rowling, famous, but normal people, all of them. They had creativity, and some of 'em had madness. 
Oh, that reminds me of Lewis Carroll. I want to be a writer too. I go mad (not the good way) if I don't have a book. Well, you just wait. I'll be famous, I will. I am writing stories, but they make me feel like a kid wrote them. 
Then I think about my cousins. (My train of thought is weird) 
Then about PRANK (PRactical joke Association Never to be Kaptured). 
I want to talk to them, or write a letter, cause they all live far away. Mahnoor and Laraib and Laiba are in Quetta. Izma is in Canada. Aliza's back at home. And I'm stuck here. I have an irresistible urge to talk to them. Indeed something faster than a letter. Thank goodness for advanced communication. Emails, the telephone, it's easy. I email them. All four. Plus a couple others. I don't know what to write so I type in "don't you wish......". Some writer I am. But I get replies straight away. 'I wish I had something to do' 'I wish I could travel the world' 'I wish I got first position' 'I wish my mother wouldn't put my socks where I can't find them' 'I wish my beard was made of green spinach'. I type back 'you don't have a beard silly!' Soon somehow or other we're all emailing each other. I type 'I wish we could have an adventure' to Mahnoor. But the weird thing is, I got a couple of messages from Hazo and Zeby saying exactly the same thing. Then Izma, and soon we were all wishing for it. I felt like they were all there, I front of me, saying it. It got louder and louder in my head. I clutched the desk, trying to steady myself. My vision was fuzzy. Did I have a fever? Was I sick? But the chanting got even louder, overwhelming me, making me cover my ears in desperation. I was in a huge stadium, fans chanting. Was this in my head or was it really happening? I couldn't tell. They weren't saying anything I could understand, and their chanting was making me collapse. It was too loud for me. I heard a nice voice say 'now dearie, are you sure that's what you want?' I couldn't see the person who said it, but I answered, 'what?' 
Then I fell, and my vision went black.

Note to readers

Dear readers, I need a few pranks to play on somebody. If you have any ideas, please write them down. I seriously would appreciate it. Not ‘cause  I’m being disturbed  very much and I’m desperate for something, but I’ve got a really super swizzling and extremely secret idea! (Swizzling isn’t a word and it sounds like swindling, but actually I’m using it to convey how excited I am over my idea) But I’m not telling you. Just ask. I still won’t tell you! But do write a comment and wish me luck! (My project involves my cousin too).

Note : New story

Dear readers, I hope you liked my story because I am NEVER gonna update it! I will stop it altogether because I am evil! Mwahahahahaaaaaa! (I’m just kidding, I’m not evil. I’m just too lazy. Tee hee. Please forgive me). Below is another story. (Don't worry, it's completed)

Annabelle Mae’s Day

Annabelle Mae was walking on the wet foot path. It had been raining and she had her umbrella tucked under her arm. She had been invited to a party by one of her friends and she didn’t want to be late. Her footsteps went tap tap tap on the hard pavement. There was a strong wind blowing above her head. She tried to shield it from the wind. Why, her hat was almost blowing off!

Then suddenly, a great gust of wind blew right into Annabelle Mae and opened her umbrella! (I can’t describe it very well but I hope you understand). Annabelle Mae tugged at the umbrella and tried to close it but the wind was too strong for her. It pushed harder and suddenly, Annabelle Mae found herself in the air. I mean really in the air. She was held up by the wind under her umbrella. She held on to it for dear life. “Help!” she shouted, “Help!” But nobody heard her. The wind floated her gently along and soon she grew used to it. She even began to enjoy it a little. She floated over people but they were so busy, they hardly noticed her. She saw a small boy shopping with his mother. He was crying about something and she was trying to quiten him. “I wonder what’s wrong?” thought Annabelle Mae “I know! I’ll wave to him!” (I honestly don’t know why or how she thought this would cheer him up) The boy pouted and looked at the sky, away from his mother. Annabelle Mae saw her chance. She waved at him. The boy first looked a bit scared, then rubbed his eyes and looked again. He suddenly started shouting and tugging at his mother’s skirt. ‘Look! Look!’ he shouted. ‘Now what?’ his mother wondered out loud. ‘Look up!’ the boy shouted. She looked up at Annabelle Mae and dropped her shopping bags in surprise. She gazed open - mouthed at the girl flying in the air held up by her umbrella. ‘Hello!’ waved Annabelle Mae. The mother looked at her son in disbelief. She couldn’t say a word. She looked so bewildered, poor thing that Annabelle Mae started to worry. The boy tried to quite his mother. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said gently. By that time Annabelle Mae had floated away. She began to worry about the time. ‘Oh dear, I shall be late!’ she cried, just like the white rabbit in “Alice in Wonderland”. (She worries a lot doesn’t she?) By now the sun was going down and Annabelle Mae was getting bored. She wondered when she would get down. She got rather angry and began to have a tantrum. She kicked her legs up and down but even that didn’t satisfy her anger. She kicked harder. The wind had lessened considerably by that time and Annabelle Mae felt herself plummet downwards some distance then stop, still hovering. She got to thinking. Hmmm, if the wind has gotten lesser, then I can push with all my weight and probably reach the ground. That is, if the wind goes on getting weaker. She tried her idea and pushed with all the heaviness she could muster. Her face was red and purple she was trying so hard. The wind suddenly dropped. Annabelle Mae got closer to the ground. Now she didn’t need to push anymore because the wind was dropping gently and steadily. She was coming downwards very gently and slowly enough for her to enjoy it. She was coming down just like a leaf in the wind. Her feet touched the ground and she stopped. Annabelle Mae took a look around. The place looked sort of familiar………………

 It was the place she had been seeking. It was the place that was far away. She boldly walked up to the door and rang the bell. A girl with black hair opened the door. She broke into a grin when she saw Annabelle Mae. ‘Well you’re early!’

                                                *

When Annabelle Mae was seated comfortably inside, hat and coat on a peg, she told her story. Her friend thought she must have a fever, but when she found out that that wasn’t the case at all, all she could say was, ‘You’re making it up’ incredulously. Annabelle Mae enjoyed herself a lot at the party. She was just walking out the door with her friend when a small boy came out of his house and started watering his plants. (They saw him through the wooden fence). Her friend stopped. ‘Why don’t you meet my neighbor?’ She introduced Jimmy (the boy) to Annabelle Mae. He just stared at her and pointed. ‘It’s rude to point!’ his neighbor said. ‘No, it’s okay he’s seen me before’, Annabelle Mae laughed. He told how he had seen her flying away with her umbrella. ‘You were the boy with his mother’. ‘Yes’ they told the story together and Annabelle Mae’s friend finally believed her. ‘Though not completely’ she said. Annabelle Mae just laughed and took the bus home. The next day she came on the news. Somebody had taken a video of her flying about. Annabelle Mae got a call, ‘You’re on the news!’