Tag Archives: family picnic

638. Copyright Notice

© Bruce Goodman 10 July 2015

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Oh me! Oh my!

It has come to my attention that a story I posted in March 2014 titled Family Picnic  has become a bit of a hit. Countless students (not just throughout the country, but throughout the WORLD) have copied my story. Many of them didn’t even bother to re-type it out. They simply copied and pasted and put their own name to it.

So many creative teachers (not just throughout the country, but throughout the WORLD) have demanded their class write a story about a family picnic. And what have the students copied? My story! My story! My story! Yay! Hurray!

Ms Destiny Divine of Sunnyrow High School in Nevada gave Elizabeth Broadbank an A+. This is an extraordinary little piece of writing, Elizabeth, scribbled Ms Divine at the bottom of Elizabeth’s essay. Why don’t you come around to my place next Saturday afternoon and we’ll discuss it in more intimate detail?

Herr Dietz Duckwitz from Passau in Bavaria gave Heinrich Schomburg an A+. Heinrich at least had the courtesy to translate the story into German (or at least he got his mother to do it). Dies ist extraorinary, Heinrich, wrote Herr Duckwitz. Sie sind ein verdammter Genie.

On and on has gone the cribbing. On and on has gone the praise. Several students have won scholarships to prestigious universities (not just throughout the country, but throughout the WORLD).

Personally, I regard anyone who steals my stories, and presents them as their own work, as rather sensible. Who doesn’t wish to succeed in life? And what a privilege! what a thrill! what an unmitigated honour! when someone steals my stories and gets praised to the skies.

The publishers don’t want my stories; let them eat shit; let them suck eggs. Anyone, just anyone, is welcome to pinch my stories (not just throughout the country, but throughout the WORLD).

Ich bin ein verdammtes Genie.

162. Family picnic

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It was summer. The family was to go to the river for a picnic. It was good for the family to occasionally do things together like that. They could swim in the river, and lie in the sun, and doze in the shade of a tree. They could eat from the picnic hamper, and sit on a rug.

There was Molly. She was sixteen. There was Jack. He was fourteen. And there were three younger ones: Josie, Cameron and Sally.

Jack didn’t want to go. “It sucks,” he said.

“But it’s a family picnic,” said his mother. “We’re all going.”

“I don’t want to go,” said Jack. “It sucks.”

“You’re going,” said his father. “We’re doing it as a family.”

Off they went. “It sucks,” said Jack.

“Take a more positive attitude,” said his mother.

“It sucks,” said Jack.

Jack hated the day. He moped and complained all day. He took part in nothing. He tried to ruin the day for everyone.

When they got home, everyone but Jack was tired from swimming and eating and sunshine.

“It sucked,” said Jack.

“That was fun,” said Molly.

But all knew the truth of the matter: a family’s mood is governed by the most selfish.