Chocolate Kid book is published and available. Would be great to have a national, international Chocolate Kid Day.
You can find Chocolate Kid for purchase on Bookbaby Bookshop where Bookbaby has done an excellent job. Go to
Bookbaby.com and find their Bookshop (heading at top right of their home page). Type in Mark K. Mitchell and the
book (front & back) will appear. (Mystery's & Folds of Honor reciprocal support: scholarships for children of veterans!)
Goal: 1 to 5 million golf followers (plus public young readers, sports, music, entertainment, military, people of all ages,
corporate proponents/sponsors) add more good books to the fun list. (Anyone: support Mystery's & you support Folds)
“Girls, for your viewing and listening pleasure,” Bogey continues, victorious. “We’ve fighting Irish of Notre Dame playing USC’s magnificent Trojans, Michigan’s Wolverines cutting sailing swords with the Buckeyes of Ohio State, and the Clemson Tigers swashbuckling against Florida State Seminoles. All exciting games, would you like to cast your fishy vote?” Girls clap and chat. Then, in a pirate’s, skinny minute, “Boys, you’ll have our voice in one moment,” Oh Bee squeals.
“Good,” Lippy says. Tugging his red and blue cap, he goes on. “Well, I’m eager to take pieces-of-eight from you Horned Frogs and grinding Gophers. I feel confident,” he says and he continues… “Scat’s the game and best ball played Tee, it up and hook or fade Nickel a hole and dime for birdies Tee, it up and smoke it pretty.” “Two-man best ball and scats included,” Lippy smacks as if he’d flattened a heave-ho runner storming across the scrimmage line. “Thar, she blows. That
“Phwoom!” The bird of prey zooms through space. In a quiet stupor, in his sleeping quarters aboard the Mother Doom Clone, maybe having had too much intoxicating drink before bed, prior to covering up, Yabba Yea glances to a picture on a nightstand. “White Wicker Pass, I’d seen the wolves. Too, the woman was testy. Beautiful, I almost had a wife. Ah. Moments. We all remember moments.” Sniffing, sighing, he then strips, pulls covers from his bed, and slips between sheet
“Dracula, the Mummy, Werewolf, are near; Franky, the Howler, and all of them clear, oh, clearly out and about. Boo!” Scatty cat Cleat yelled and he grinned like a silly gopher. “Quit!” Putt shrieked. Shaking, her tiny hands held her long, smooth tail. They walked, they were there, and very near Where tombstones littered the yard They walked and talked, the buried were near Where spirits and spooks stood guard Frightening, skies darkened. Clouds passed by the bright moon.
“Okay, Bee; but you know I’d rather cut-up than clean up,” Shank blabbed. Shank swayed. “My cartilaginous body is twitching, itching, and I’m ready to haunt houses, hunt for pumpkins.” Shank spouted… “Cats and bats, scary tales of the night Shadows and noises that add to the fright Creepy and eerie things I see Make me soon doubt just where I should be Candy and fun, I’ll bear haunted sights To trick and treat on Halloween nights Let’s go party out from the lights Halloween
“I’ve had my Swiss Army knife for a year now. Dad gave it to me for my birthday last year.” Kannapolis shoved one hand to, Goon. “See.” “Oh. It’s a beauty,” Beaureguard drawled. His eyes scanned the hard body of the glitzy knife. “A real peach.” “Thanks,” said Kannapolis. Tiny hands turned the knife for Guy and Beauregard to see. “It has a can opener, Mr. Wallace, and a wire stripper, screw driver, bottle opener, and tweezers. Would you believe it even has a nail file
“Yes, sir.” Each man looked to Mr. Pantywaste. George C. Pantywaste was a collector and trader of rare coins, jewels, and he dealt in gold bullion. Stepping briskly along the cool corridor of the bank, George was a famous bookworm. He kept his nose in news of financial networks of the world. Forbes, Fortune, various stock exchanges, brokerage houses and sometimes-dubious agents of financial information all kept him occupied eighteen of twenty-four hours a day, six days a
“Auggrraahh! Xmei! Lemsl slvmke sldjs!” The knobby, frazzled creature cries again. “Perhaps we should start with his feet, Sonon. Then we’ll work our way up.” Sorin’s eyebrows rise. Turning to Grunt, the soldier’s eyes burn as fire as he stares and then goes on. “Maybe we should lance each of the odd-shaped toes you have, succubus. We might cut your feet with the tip of my sharp arrow,” he says and points. Sorin yanks an arrow from a soldier’s quiver. Then, stepping
Page 13 Nearly plugged in deep, yucky grass meant for scaly reptiles and buttercups, alone, I stared at my muddy ball. A hummingbird feeding at a rose bush turned and zipped my way. With one wing pointed to, likely, gator trouble, he squealed. “Play it safe. Play it safe.” The stream-lined bird was right. Linky also said sometimes life tries to snap at you, meaning, life gets ugly. Bad lies were ugly, particularly close to gators. Not wanting to lose an arm, I dropped a
Page 1 “So, don’t think humans can’t be superman, or superwoman. They can. Muscles explode!” Blinking, my fishy lips tightened. Next to me, Heidi Angst started, “But how can…” “The mind works wonders.” Mr. Kent our science instructor loosened his skinny green tie and tapped one shiny, black penny loafer to the waxed, school floor. “But slimy salamander, you don’t mean lift a car sir?” Heidi kept on. “I don’t believe I…” “Case after case: documented,” Mr. Kent blabbed. “