Click, Clack, Moo

I am writing this post for my sister, Heather. One of her recent blog posts inspired me to rewrite this childrens story. In her post she was looking for the word that you would use to describe the incorrect use of a thesaurus. I couldn't find that word. The closest word to it I found was "malapropism". So I decided to greatly misuse the thesaurus to rewrite this story. I chose this story because it is one of Heather's favorite childrens stories.

Click, Clack, Moo Cows That Type
by Doreen Cronin;
rewritten by Valinda Rees

Farmer Brown has a botheration.
His cows like to type.
All day lofty he heeds

Click, clack, moo.
Click, clack, moo.
Clickety, clack, moo.

At first, he couldn’t accredit his ears.
Cows that type?
Inconceivable!

Click, clack, moo.
Click, clack, moo.
Clickety, clack, moo.

Then he couldn’t regard his eyes.

Dear Farmer Brown,
The stable is extensively brumal at duskiness. We’d like some stimulating blankets.
Sincerely,
The Cows

It was abominable enough the cows had found the geriatric typewriter in the barn, now they demanded power-driven blankets! “No way,” said Farmer Brown. “No juiced blankets.”

So the cows went on mutiny. They marooned a dispatch on the barn portal.

Attritional. We’re sealed. No bovine extract today.

“No formula today!” blubbered Farmer Brown. In the remote, he hearkened the cows industrious at work:

Click, clack, moo.
Click, clack, moo.
Clickety, clack, moo.

The neighboring day, he implied another commentary:

Dear Farmer Brown,
The hens are glacial too. They’d like rousing blankets.
Sincerely,
The Cows

The cows were evolving petulant with the farmer. They left a new agenda on the barn door.

Bankrupt. No moo juice. No ova.

“No hen apples!” sniveled Farmer Brown. In the background he ascertained them.

Click, clack, moo.
Click, clack, moo.
Clickety, clack, moo.

“Cows that transcribe. Hens on boycott! Whoever heard of such a thing? How can I perform a farm with no cream and no embryos!” Farmer Brown was furious.

Farmer Brown got out his own typewriter.

Dear Cows and Hens,
There will be no magnetic blankets. You are cows and hens. I summon milk and eggs.
Sincerely,
Farmer Brown

Duck was a neutral party, so he accompanied the ultimatum to the cows.

The cows held a plight meeting. All the beasts gathered around the barn to interfere, but none of them could fathom moo.

All night long, Farmer Brown tarried for an answer.

Duck knocked on the door prematurely the next morning. He relinquished Farmer Brown a scratch:

Dear Farmer Brown,
We will reciprocate our typewriter for electrifying blankets. Leave them yonder the barn door and we will propel Duck over with the typewriter.
Sincerely,
The Cows

Farmer Brown ascertained this was an admirable deal. He left the blankets parallel to the barn door and anticipated for Duck to come with the typewriter.

The subsequent morning he got a diary:

Dear Farmer Brown,
The lagoon is quite arid. We’d like a diving board.
Sincerely,
The Ducks

Click, clack, quack.
Click, clack, quack.
Clickety, clack, quack.