Hi! This past year we had to write a picture book in school. I really liked mine and thought I might share it with you guys. Unfortunately, there are no pictures. Hope you enjoy and please give me feedback! (Note: Copied and pasted from the Word document I saved. I did not just type all this. )
The day was a bit cloudy, but not like a rainstorm. The Smith family was taking a walk down the streets of San Francisco on this particular cloudy California day, on their way to the bookstore.
“I can’t wait to get to the bookstore!” exclaimed Steve, an excited seven year old boy.
“Calm down or you’ll trip yourself!” said Serena, a twelve year old girl, as she flipped her brown hair behind her.
“Don’t worry kids, we’re almost there!” smiled their mother.
“Yep!” said their dad. “We just have to turn this corner.”
They turned the corner to see quite a surprise.
There was a flash of green light. All of the sudden a chicken was standing before them. A giant one, at that.
“Oh hello there. Pardon me if I frightened you,” the chicken said in a British accent.
The Smiths just stood there, open mouthed.
“Oh yes. I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Fred Bob the second, from the planet Bawk. I have a black belt in karate from the Chicken Dojo, and I simply adore hot dogs! In a whole wheat bun. With mustard only. Pleased to meet you,” he said.
Four words came out of Mr. Smith’s mouth.
“You’re a… giant… chicken,” he said.
“Yes. I know that. Anyway, I think you would be able to help me. You see, I am not very familiar with your planet. I need to find the very finest, most delicious hot dog. I am quite sure that you would be knowledgeable about this topic,” Fred Bob smiled hopefully.
Steve stepped forward.
“Okay buddy. Take off the suit,” he said, and pulled at Fred Bob’s feathers.
“AAAAAAAGGGGGHHH!!!!!!” screamed Fred Bob. “I say! Young man, what on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“So you are real,” gasped Steve. “Cool! Of course we’ll help you!”
“Wait! But-“began Mr. Smith, but Fred Bob interrupted.
“Great! So, lead me to the nearest hot dog joint!”
“Well all right, but you can’t go around like that. You need a disguise,” Serena said.
“Got it covered,” replied Fred Bob.
He whipped out a small black case. Fred Bob quickly dug inside the case and in a flash of chicken feathers was completely transformed. He wore a moustache and a suit, and a top hat that covered his head.
“How do I look?” asked Fred Bob.
“Handsome,” said Mrs. Smith.
“Then to hot dogs we go!” cried Fred Bob.
“Well,” said Mr. Smith. “The nearest restaurant that serves hot dogs around here would be George’s.”
“Let us pay them a visit!” said Fred Bob.
The odd group walked down the street.
The bell on the shop door jingled as they entered the shop.
They plopped down in a booth. Fred Bob pecked at the napkins. Serena elbowed him.
“I say! Whatever did you do that for?” exclaimed Fred Bob.
“Stop it! You’re supposed to be a human!” Serena hissed at him.
Their waiter approached the table.
Serena quickly covered Fred Bob’s mouth before he could cluck at the waiter.
“Hello,” said their waiter. “I’m Tony and I will be your waiter today. Would you like to-“
Fred Bob cut him off.
“Yes we would like to order one hot dog with mustard!” he yelled.
“Uh… that’s it?” asked Tony.
“Um… and some French fries,” said Serena weakly.
“Okay,” said Tony, and he walked away from the table.
Tony soon returned with Fred Bob’s hot dog and a plate of French fries.
“Okay Fred Bob. Time for the critical taste test,” sighed Serena.
Fred Bob took a bite and chewed.
Steve squirted ketchup on his fries.
Everyone held their breath.
“YUCK!” Fred Bob stuck out his tongue. “This is the most sour mustard I’ve ever tasted! I’m leaving!” he cried.
Mrs. Smith quickly put the money on the table next to the half-eaten hot dog and caught up with the others. Fred Bob was yelling at the manager.
“You, sir, are a disgrace! You call that a hot dog? Well the definition of a hot dog is a juicy red delicious thing with delightful condiments! And what you presented me with was-“
Serena dragged him out the door before he could say anymore.
The great hot dog search began. They led Fred Bob to almost every hot dog restaurant around, but there was always something that made the dogs imperfect. One was too chewy, another too soft. They were either too hot or too cold, too fresh or too old. Finally the exhausted family collapsed at a frozen yogurt café for a break.
“Ugh, I’m so tired,” cried Steve as he nibbled on his chocolate flavored yogurt.
“I know,” sighed Fred Bob. “But I just can’t seem to find the perfect one.”
“I have an idea,” said Serena. “I always think that something you’ve cooked from home tasted best. Why don’t you try making your very own hot dog?”
“Splendid idea!” exclaimed Fred Bob.
“Let’s go to the supermarket to get our ingredients,” said Mrs. Smith.
They arrived at the supermarket.
“Well Fred Bob, get your hot dog stuff,” said Serena.
Fred Bob dashed through the store, picking up the frozen hot dogs, whole wheat buns, and mustard, not to mention a soda to drink.
Once they had checked out, they hurried to the Smith’s house.
“I can’t wait to get home!” Steve exclaimed. “Then I can introduce you to my pet potato!”
As soon as they got into the house, Steve rushed to his room and returned cradling a small potato in his hands.
“Meet Steve Jr.! He’s ninety six years old!”
“Oh dear. I’ve never met an elderly potato before,” said Fred Bob.
“Don’t worry. He doesn’t bite,” exclaimed Steve.
“Fred Bob, I got the stove heated up! Come on and cook your hot dog!” called Mrs. Smith.
The Smith’s taught Fred Bob step by step how to make a hot dog. He cooked it up in a frying pan and carefully placed it in a whole wheat bun. Then he squirted the mustard on in a squiggly line.
“Okay, go on and taste it,” smiled Serena.
Fred Bob bit into it. A grin instantly spread across his face.
“It’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, and proceeded to make a few more for the road.
“That’s it? You found your perfect hot dog?” asked Steve.
“Yes indeed my friends! Thank you very very much!” said Fred Bob happily.
“So you have to go back to your planet now?” asked Serena.
“I am afraid so,” he replied. “Goodbye! I shall visit again soon!”
In a flash of green light, Fred Bob the second and his hot dogs disappeared.
“I’ll miss him,” sighed Mrs. Smith.
“Uh-huh,” said Mr. Smith.
“Me too. But someday he’ll visit again, and we’ll make him a whole hot dog feast,” smiled Serena.
“Yeah,” agreed Steve.
Steve Jr. agreed too.
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