I didn't put a date on this one. I'm guessing I wrote it in junior high school. I am sincerely hoping I didn't write it in college.
The wee-folk of Briarton gathered beneath parasols of clover and honey-suckle to protect themselves from early morning dew-drops at the base of a hollowed tree stump which served as the Mayor's residence. [AAAAGGHHH! I CAN'T BELIEVE I EVER WROTE THE WORDS "PARASOLS OF CLOVER!"]
With chipmunk cheeks puffed with disgust, the village doctor, Paddywise Putnam [Maybe I'd just read The Hobbit?] rapped his fist sharply upon the tree stump's door . . .
TO BE CONTINUED
1. Feel free to wonder why PP is rapping his fist (sharply) upon the tree stump's door.
2. Feel free to wonder why PP's cheeks are puffed with disgust.
3. Feel free to wonder what cheeks puffed with disgust look like.
4. Feel free to be happy I didn't take up writing fantasy as a career.