Linda Barnett-Johnson

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Gone with the Wind ~Rodney Evans   ( 1 ) This was one of my favorite of the series by Rodney Evans , October 9, 2014 By  Linda Barnett-Johnson "Linda Barnett-Johnson" (Montana) This review is from: Gone with the Wind (The Flatulent Pumpkin Series Book 4) (Kindle Edition) This was one of my fav...

. The Fart Who Came to Dinner ~Rodney Evans   ( 2 ) I loved the name of this book , October 9, 2014 By  Linda Barnett-Johnson "Linda Barnett-Johnson" (Montana) This review is from: The Fart Who Came to Dinner (The Flatulent Pumpkin Series Book 3) (Kindle Edition) ...

Your review of Case of the Plucked Chicken just went live on Amazon.com Case of the Plucked Chicken ~Rodney Evans   ( 6 ) Kids will love the way this book is w...

Your review of The Flatulent Pumpkin just went live on Amazon.com   The Flatulent Pumpkin ~Rodney Evans   ( 1 ) ...

She whispered, her voice like a familiar song. Tears crept down her cheeks as she smiled. "Shawn." Her voice sounded calm-secure, but her expression; her quivering lips and her furrowed brow revealed her pain, her agony. She pressed down a high pitch note on the piano keyboard with her index finger. Her tears crept down her cheeks. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she said. Her tears were unceasing. She bit her quivering lip. Her tears became a stream.  I nodded; she still had her focus on the piano. "Beautiful." I said, closing my eyes. She pressed down another key. She played a short melody. When the melody ended, I slowly opened my eyes. She was still staring at her fingers. The piano was in the middle of the practice room and on the sides were couches and guitars aligned like as if it was her silent audience. She stretched out her arm to grab her jacket, and walked around the piano, towards the door. "Goodbye, Sha...

Sometime close to Thanksgiving, little Milton's family drove off and left him in a dirty gas station bathroom stall,  at a truck stop, just outside of Barstow.  Eight year old Milton didn't panic. He knew his family loved him, Mom and Dad sometimes missed little details. They would be back, he reasoned, but not before Milton learned a valuable lesson about kindness that impacted all his remaining Thanksgivings Instead of crying Milton went to the truck stop kitchen and tugged on the cook's apron. With just a little quiver in his voice, Milton shared his dilemma with the large sweaty cook who smelled very much like old fish and onions.  "Ahem!" Milton coughed as he pulled on the blood and grease smeared apron. "Pardon me sir, but my parents have left me, and you smell like old fish and onions!" "Whaaat?"  exploded the chef, as he turned and looked down on the top of a blonde mop of hair. "I smell like Whaaat?" The man's voice had a...

It was an unusually hard winter, where even the bears were reduced to eating porridge, so when I spotted Little Red Riding Hood strolling through the forest, basket in hand, I accosted her at once.   "Stand and deliver," I growled. I am, alas, addicted to late night movies.   "What do you mean?" Red smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes.   "Give me the basket, or I'll eat you," I barked.   "Oh, no you won't." Red turned and sprinted down the path to Grandmother's house.  That girl could run.   I turned tail and loped after her, but she slipped through Grandmother's front door ahead of me.  I had my paw on the knob when the Hunter tapped me on the shoulder.   "What's going on here?" Hunter heaved his ax and swung, lodging it firmly in the front door of the house and narrowly missing my tail.   "I was simply enjoying a jog on a beautiful morning." But my attempt at a nonchalant attitude was spoiled...