harryhero

Harry Hero is a collaborative family writing project. He began as typing practice for author #6 in the mid-seventies. Authors M, 1, 4, 5, 7, spontaneously and sarcastically contributed until Harry took on a life and momentum of his own. He was reborn as a Christmas project in the early nineties and again as a web project in the new millennium. Once more Harry has risen from near tragic and certain literary deaths to live again as blog practice. Bulwer-Lytton judges take note.

About Me

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It seems I have suffered and survived a few insults and injuries to my cranium, thus my memory does not lend itself to one seamless life I could call my own. Instead, my life seems to be one dim episode after another documented by a random and rather odd conglomeration of assorted biographers who, for some bizarre reason, seem compelled to document my trials as if I were a remarkable hero. Heroism can take many forms. Perhaps it is finding fresh strawberries in November for the Manhattan socialite's crepes as she breaks her fast. Perhaps it is found in a multitude of skills, lucky breaks and death defying feats. It may be true that piloting my faithful rig, Betsy, through the Canadian Rockies is not for the weak of spirit, mind or body; I claim no special talents other than devoted love and endless hope. Love of a good truck, a good cup coffee and a good adventure. Hope of self-actualization and...Sophie? If you desire a chronological –not necessarily logical- plotline begin reading at the January 26 2006 post - The Not So Constant Gardener - and follow subsequent postings to present day.

Blog Archive

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Fireblade Rocket

Harry’s stretcher turns into a Fireblade rocket with wheels, and Christmas lights on top. There was a Christmas tree inside. The tree had a star on top of it that made the light shine.















All the good guys and bad guys are on the farm. Harry stands up on the stretcher. The rooster cock-a-doodle doos and they run away fast. The bad guys just stay there and the farm animals kill them! The cows kill them with their horns. The sun shines, the sky is blue and the good guys find a shady spot. They have a picnic because they are hungry. The horse can talk and sit down. (Floppy –the original?) A lid falls on their heads, and there is an apple in it. Harry had an idea. “Let’s make a car.” They use the lid for a wheel. There are many lids. There are many wheels. Then they ride away in the car.

To be continued...
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