My First Story-Mr. Jones and Mr. Bones

Behold, ladies and gentlemen.  Hard evidence that I began my story-telling journey as a wee lass of 6.  Saved from the dust covered archives by my trusty dad Jim.  Originally saved by my diligent mother, who may have suspected I'd find this entertaining many years later. Holla to the mutha. The translations are provided below each frame. Spelling errors included. Punctuation provided 28 years later for your reading ease. Enjoy.

 Mr. Jones has a goat. The goat(e)s name is Mr. Bones.  Mr. Bones bites the hose. My what will Mr. Jones___ (do?)  Mr. Jones moans and moans.  He is mad at Mr. Bones.  He ties Mr. Bones to a rail.  Mr. Bones hops up on the boat.  He pokes his _____ (nose?) in.  The home soap is on the sill.  Mr Bones bites the soap. Bam Bam.

 What a mess. My What will Mr. Jones do.  Mr. Jones gets so mad.  He ties Mr. Bones to a pole.  A robe is on the line.  Mr. Bones waits for Mr. Jones to go.  Mr. Bones tugs on the rope.  He hopes to get the robe.  Mr. Bones dines on the robe.  Mr. Jones (scribbles)  Mr. Jones will sell Mr. Bones.  Mr. Jones nails a noat to His home.  Mr. Bones dines on th(e) noat.

Sad Mr. Jones.  he has no hop(e).  My what will Mr. Jones do?


A cliff-hanger if ever there was one.  I was left wracking my brain after reading this, trying to recall what, if any, plan I'd had for the obvious sequel to Mr. Jones and Mr. Bones.  Only the misty haze of intention lost to time met my musings.  Though we may never discover Mr. Bones' fate, at least we know that he existed, if only for a few penciled moments.  Those hand-written moments were bound in wide-ruled school paper, taped on the spine and trimmed on the edges to resemble a real book...or a close to it as a first grader might come.  I have to admit, I'm quite proud of Little Jaime and fairly intrigued at how our destinies can manifest at such a young age.