#mrgregory

once told our class

don’t live your life always wishing it was Friday , because Friday will always come. . and before you know it, its been years and youre still wishing for Friday wondering how you got here .

From: A Collection Mr Gregory

It took a long while, Gregory lost count of the weeks owing to his forgetful nature, but they finally arrived at the coast of Bosnia. They had to skip around several islands and countries and at one point a large ship filled with angry Italians tried to sink them, but they managed to avoid that. They made port on a small cove far away from the harbor, Norris mentioned something about high document fees, or was it docking? Gregory couldn’t remember. When they set foot on land Gregory was suddenly struck with a disappointing revelation: He had no idea why he was in Bosnia. He knew that it was his plan to go and he made every effort to get there, but now that he was here he simply couldn’t recall why it was he was in this strange country in the first place. He voiced his thoughts to his fellow travelers.

The Barber laughed and said something about hating his bossy cat, or something. Norris shrugged, obviously not giving the slightest care.

The Cousin had a conniption fit.

During the ranting and raving done by the enraged second cousin, Gregory had time to notice that the beach they were standing on was rather rocky and over to their right was what looked like a small group of huts. Curious, he began walking towards the miniscule village. The second cousin stopped ranting and called after him “Why Greg? Come back! Where are you going??”

Gregory shrugged. He had never been to Bosnia, how could he possibly know what this tiny community was called? Or if it even had a name. For someone older than him, Gregory’s second cousin could be a bit thick sometimes. It took exactly one thousand, three hundred, and ninety-four and a half steps to reach the village. When Gregory got there, it was empty. Not a soul could be seen nor heard, except Gregory, Norris, the Barber, and Gregory’s second cousin, of course.

Somewhere nearby a bird sang its song.

Gregory had never been to a different country before and he had to be honest, he found the housing of this one rather measly. As he surveyed the landscape about him he wondered what it might have been like to live in these little beach huts. It was no wonder no one lived in them. He heard his party discussing the matter behind them, something about a haunted village. Gregory paid them no mind.

For the first time in his life, Gregory was happy. He had accomplished everything he had set out to do. He wasn’t sure what he would do now that he was in Bosnia, but he was optimistic with the possibilities, the world was his now. He was happy. The world was light.

From: A Collection Mr Gregory

By the time all this came about, Gregory had two days left and only one thing left to do, and that was to go to Bosnia. He knew the Mime wasn’t going so he accepted that the trip would consist of a party of three rather than four. The Barber was very willing to go as soon as possible. He hated his job and hated his cat even more and he was hoping that by the time he got back from Bosnia neither would be there anymore. So, the way he saw it, the faster he left, the sooner his two most hated things could cease to exist.

The second cousin was much older than Gregory, exactly twelve years, seven months, fourteen days, nine hours, one minute, and thirty-four seconds older. Well, maybe it was forty-three seconds. Gregory never remembered. And, being older than Gregory, the second cousin automatically earned the right to make several decisions about the trip. The first one he made concerned the method of travel. He wouldn’t hear of flying. He had to go by ship. “A proper sea-vessel too, not some blundering cruise liner,” is how he put it. And so, with that idea in mind, Gregory and his crew set out to find a ship that could take them to Bosnia.

The ship they did find was definitely not a cruise ship. Gregory went so far to assume that this ship was the most not-a-cruise-ship ship possible in the history of not-cruise-ships. It was a big, rusted out, flimsy-sailed, lug bucket. At least, that’s what the Barber said.  It seemed as if it had been floating in the same spot for the last three-hundred years which, Gregory knew, was impossible. They didn’t make ships like this three-hundred years ago. But the amount of filth and grime and barnacles was enough to fool anyone not well versed in aquatic vessel histories. The captain’s name was Norris and he had a funny way of speaking. He didn’t exactly piece his words together properly and his strange out words came. It was all Gregory could do to keep up with his numerous instructions. He had to de-jumble them in his head as he was speaking and by the time he figured one out, Norris was two more ahead. But, after a long while of talking, de-jumbling, packing, loading, planning, more de-jumbling, and more packing, the small, ragtag band was off.

From: A Collection Mr Gregory 

Now as far as the superglue is concerned, that didn’t take near as long as the bout with the Mime. It took all of forty-five minutes actually. Gregory’s friends said that he as a fool to try and paint superglue onto the windshield of a car, that it would never work, that it was very near impossible. Well, from dear Gregory’s experience he found out something very quickly. It was. It was very nearly impossible. But Gregory had done harder, so it wasn’t much of a big deal.

From A Collection:  Mr. Gregory

From A Collection: Mr. Gregory

Dear Gregory Miller had exactly three days to do what he planned. Nothing spectacular, really: just a trip to Bosnia with his second cousin, his barber, and a traveling mime; apply a thin layer of Super Glue to the windshield of his boss’s car, and put the finishing touches on his new-and-improved Dynamite Powered Mousetrap.