Read And Have Fun With Spanish

Read And Have Fun With Spanish

A Story by Larkin Thompson

Here are two stories from a book I have been working on. The fun stories are designed to spur an interest in grammar school age children in learning a foreign language. I'd like your opinion.


Read and Have Fun with Spanish


Larkin D. Thompson

© 2012




Pepito loved to visit his grandfather in Old Mexico at the village of Polvoriento Campo and listen to the stories the old man would tell.  Grandfather was muy viejo and had much knowledge of olden times and special things that kept Pepito spell bound when he spun his tales.  One evening after cena, the old man and Pepito sat on the veranda watching the sun go down over the far mountains.

            “Look!” Pepito exclaimed, pointing at the mountains. “See the red sunset, el abuelo.  It is so pretty.”

            “Yes, mi nieto, it is a strange phenomenon in deed and did you know it began right here in this valley.” The old man replied.

            “Really?” Pepito responded. “Right here?”

            “Si,” The old man confirmed. “If you would like, I can tell you the story.”

The boy was anxious to hear and the old man began:  Once upon a time down in this valley there was a big beautiful rancho that stretched as far as the eye could see.  It was called 'El Rancho Mucho Grande' by those who lived nearby.  It was known for its herds of beautiful of horses and cattle and especially known for its ferocious bulls, many of whom had fought at the big bull fighting ring in Mexico City.

The biggest and meanest of all the bulls was El Toro Gigante.  Even the toughest vaquero was afraid to ride within a hundred feet of him.  El Toro Gigante had injured his foot as a young bull and it left him with a severe limp.   So bad was this malady he could not run fast like the other bulls.  Even so, they would not dare to challenge him in a fair fight.  The men who came from Mexico City to pick out bulls for the big bull ring always passed on El Toro Gigante because of his injury.
    "What would peoples say if we brought a cripple to fight our magnificent matadors?" The men asked.

El Toro Gigante and his mate Bonita Vacalito had many offspring and some of their sons were chosen to go to Mexico City and fight in the big bull ring.  None had ever returned and everyone understood those who did not come back had lost their fight and probably ended up as tacos at the local cantina.   So sad was their fate that Bonita Vacalito vowed no more of her sons would lucharia at the big bull ring.

One spring Bonita Vacalito gave birth to a son.  Unlike his hermanos, this son quickly began growing big and strong like his father.  He was tough as they came and wouldn’t hesitate to chase any other bull, grown or half grown, across the pasture.  He especially disliked the two leggeds that rode the horses and sometimes walked across his territory and given the chance he sent them running for safety.

One vaquero named Romero didn’t like the way the young bull acted so intimidating and aggressive, so he decided to do something about it and began carrying a bullwhip to keep the youngster at bay.  The young bull didn’t like the picadura of the bullwhip and stayed clear of Romero when he was in the pasture. 

One day Romero was trying to remove a stone from his horse’s hoof.  Bent over and distracted by the task at hand he didn’t realize the young bull was coming up from behind.  Seeing his chance the young bull charged and BOOM, he butted the vaquero so hard he flew right over the three railed wooden fence that enclosed the pasto and landed hard on the other side.


The next day Romero returned and outside of the fence called for the young bull to come over and have a bite of prime alfalfa he held in his hand.

            “I have been thinking.” The vaquero said, holding the alfalfa out as a peace offering. “That I’ve been wrong.  The pasto belongs to you and from now on I will stay out of it.  So, I see no reason why we can’t be amigos. You on your side and me on mine.”

Romero wore a red hat and a red bandana and a bright red shirt and the young bull thought that a man with such fine taste in clothes couldn’t be all bad and he came over and accepted the alfalfa. 

            “Mucho gracias.”  He said and took a bite and it was so good he closed his eyes to savor the flavor and the next thing he knew a rope had been thrown around his neck and he found himself tied securely to a fence post.

            “Now, I’m going to teach you a lesson.” The vaquero said climbing to the top of the fence. “You have yet to learn that ganado are inferior to humans and must always stay in their place and do as they’re told.”

With that the vaquero brought forth his bull whip and gave the young bull a beating of a many lashes.

            “Now the next time you meet a human in the corral or the pasture, you will step aside and show some respect.” The vaquero admonished.


The incident did not break the young bull’s spirit and in fact made him angrier than ever against the two leggeds and as he grew to his full size he would not allow them anywhere in the pasture where he grazed.  Any man who dared to challenge the young bull soon found themselves airborne on the wrong end of a powerful head butt.  And if an intruder wore any clothing with the color red in it, the young bull would go berserk and chase the trespasser until the sun went down.  It soon became known far and wide the young bull would go crazy at the sight of the color red and the two legged and the ganado, as well, called him ‘Loco Para Rojo’ and that became his name.


One day the little son of owner of the rancho wandered into pasture following a small rubber ball he was playing with.  The boy, Lorenzo, was frail and small for his age of five years and had a lame foot that caused him to hobble as he tried to run after the ball.  The boy caught the eye of the cattle.

            “He is just like me, a cripple, no?” El Toro Gigante asked his son Loco Para Rojo.  “He will grow up with no respect.  It is a shame.” 

            “It is sad.” Loco Para Rojo replied and then added. “He is an innocent and I will let him play in the pasture as he wishes.”

            “That is bueno.” El Toro Giante affirmed his son’s decision. 

But a group of other young bulls saw the little boy playing in the pasture and decided to show their bravado and surrounded the child with intention of butting him around, trampling him some and kicking him over the fence.

            “Hey, little two legged.” One young bull bellowed. “You wanna play ball with us? You can be the ball.”

            “You mean ‘one legged.” Another poked fun at Lorenzo’s lame leg.

Just then the shadow of Loco Para Rojo fell over the crowd of young bulls.

             “Leave this chico alone.” He growled.  “Or I will make the jerky out of the lot of you!”

The young bulls disappeared quicker than a box of chocolates at a Weight Watchers meeting. .In the meantime, el jefe of the vaqueros saw what was transpiring and fearing for the boy’s life had ran to the bunkhouse and returned with his rifle.  He took aim as Loco Para Rojo stood over the boy.  El jefe had his finger on the trigger but released it when he saw the bull pick the boy up and placed him on his back and with the ball in his mouth, trotted over to the fence where the boy went to the waiting men.


After that day and for many years to come, Lorenzo and Loco Para Rojo were fast friends.  They spent many a day romping and playing in the big pasture.  The humans that saw the pair, shook their heads in disbelief as Lozenzo rode Loco Para Rojo from one end of the rancho to the other.  How could it be, they wondered, that a frail boy could handle the big wild bull that no other person could come near.


That friendship aside, stories of Loco Para Rojo’s escapades with the two leggeds was the stuff legends are made of in the country side, villages and towns around the big rancho where he lived.

One tale that was wide spread involved a fisherman wearing a black and red flannel shirt.  Apparently he had never heard of Loco Para Rojo and his extreme hatred of humans and especially anyone wearing any clothing with the color red.  This fisherman was trying to reach a small lake on the other side of the pasture and was nearly across when Loco Para Rojo spotted him and gave chase.  The man ran for his life and barely reached a tree to climb before the bull caught up with him.  Luckily the tree had a branch that hung out over the lake and the man could sit on it and fish while Loco Para Rojo snorted and did his best to push the tree over.  Many hours passed and Loco Para Rojo found he could not push the big tree over and the man found he could not climb down with the fish he had caught.

            “Por favor, Senor Toro.” The man said. “The hour is growing late and I need to go home with these pez, so my poor wife and ocho children will have something to eat this evening.”

            “Si, Senor two legged.” Loco Para Rojo replied. “It is getting late and I can not push this tree over and you cannot live on suisi forever.  Your familia is probably worried about you as well.  You may go… but first you must put your red shirt in your bag so I do not see the color that drives me crazy.”

            “Gracias.”  The fisherman said and did as Loco Para Rojo asked and all ended well.


Another day Lorenzo and Loco Para Rojo were playing in the pasture when a senorita driving a bright red convertible stopped on the dirt road next to the pasture to use her cell phone.  Loco Para Rojo charged up to the fence, snorting and pawing the ground.

            “Que paso?” The senorita asked, “You like my red convertible, no?”

            “Red convertible!” Loco Para Rojo shouted. “I love red convertibles!  I love to smash them into pieces pequeno.”

With that he jumped straight up in the air, kicking all four feet wildly.  He ran around the pasture plowing the ground with his horns and trampling bushes and small trees.  His eyes turned red and fire shot from his nostrils as he charged the big wooden fence that surrounded the pasture.  Blam!  He blasted right through the fence and began pounding on the car.   The senorita was frightened so badly she drove off as fast as she could down the narrow dirt road.  Loco Para Rojo was up to the challenged and he raced along side of the car butting it as hard as he could.  It was tres kilometers to the village of Polvoriento Campo and by the time they reached it, the convertible looked like a piece of red crumbled tinfoil.  The villagers were alarmed to see such a sight and their fears heightened when Loco Para Rojo ran ramped through the village destroying anything that held the color red.


Luego esa noche a committee from the village paid a visit to the owner of the Rancho Mucho Grande and demanded something be done about Loco Para Rojo.  Senor Lopez, Lorenzo’s father and owner of the ranch agreed to pay for the damages to the village and much to horror of Lorenzo, agreed to send Loco Para Rojo to the big bull fighting ring in Mexico City.


The next morning Lorenzo hurried to the pasture as fast as he could go to warn Loco Para Rojo the men from the big bull ring were coming for him.

            “Let them come.” Loco Para Rojo laughed.  “There’s not enough two legged hombres in all of Mexico City that can capture me… I’ll chase them all home crying for their mamacitas.”

Lorenzo tried to tell him the men would bring tranquilizer guns to shoot him with and once he fell asleep they would put him in unbreakable chains and hoist him into an inescapable cage and take him to the city.  But Loco Para Rojo could not imagine such a thing. 

            “Don’t worry, little brother.” He said.  “They will be sorry if they do, for I will trample the whole city they take me to.”

            “But amigo.” Lorenzo pleaded. “They will not let you trample the city. They will shoot you with the rifles grande.”
Loco Para Rojo just laughed and told the boy not to worry and Lorenzo could not convince him to hide in the woods for a while.  Lorenzo knew he must do something to save Loco Para Rojo as it was only two days before the men from the bull ring would come.


On the morning the men from the bull ring arrived at Rancho Grande Mucho, Loco Para Rojo stood in the pasture eyeballing their truck.  It was big and imposing with an iron barred cage.  Loco Para Rojo was not worried, he would make short work of the camion and cage.  He did not understand tranquilizer guns and did not flinch when the men approached the fence with their rifles.


Suddenly from the corral came a horseman.  The horse was a crimson red and the rider was dressed in all red, his botas, pants, shirt and even his hat.  He also tied a red bandana around his face to hide his identity.  Loco Para Rojo could not believe his eyes, surely this must be el Diablo himself on horseback.  He jumped straight up in the air, kicking all four feet wildly.  He ran around the pasture plowing the ground with his horns and trampling bushes and small trees.  His eyes turned red and fire shot from his nostrils as he turned towards the horseman and charged for all he was worth.  The horseman saw him coming and reined his fast caballo toward the west and rode hard with Loco Para Rojo right on his tail.


The men from Mexico City, the vaqueros and the owner of Rancho Mucho Grande watched in amazement as pair ran off into the hills of the west.  The afternoon came and went and evening was at hand and still the pair ran towards the distant montanas. Just as sun was setting, they could see a glimmer of red many kilometers away.


From that day to this on one has ever seen Loco Para Rojo, the rider or the horse and strange as it might seem, Lorenzo also disappeared that same day and was unheard of again.   People who know about such things say no matter where you live, if you look at the mountain’s silhouette just as the sun sets, you may catch a glint of a red on the horizon and who knows, it just might be Loco Para Rojo and the red horseman - for the legend says they are destined to run forever on the mountains ridges at sunset..


            “And that my grandson is reason why you might see red at sunset.”  The old man concluded.  “Oh my, “ He said looking down at Pepito who had fallen asleep.. “The boy has grown tired and is resting.  I will tell him story again manana.”




El Abuelo                                  Grandfather                  Manana                                    Tomorrow

Bonita  Cavalito             Pretty Little cow           Montanas                      Moutains

Botas   Boots                            Muchacho                     Boy

Bueno  Good                            Mucho                          Much

Caballo                                     Horse                           Mucho Gracias              Thanks much

Camion                                     Truck                           Muy                             Many

Campo                                      Field                             mi Neito                        my Grandson

Cantina                                     Tavern                          Ocho                            Eight

Cena   Supper                          Para                             For

Diablo  Devil                            Pasto                            Pasture

El Rancho Mucho Grande          The big ranch                Pez                               Fish

El Toro Gigante                         The giant bull                Picadura                       String

Familia                          Family                          Polvoriento                    Dusty

Ganado                                     Cattle                           Por favor, Senior Toro   Please Mr. Bull

Gigante                                     Giant                            Que paso                      What’s up?

Gracias                                     Thank you                     Luego esa noche           Later that night

Grande                                     Large                           Rancho                         Ranch

Hermanos                                 Brothers                       Senorita                        Young lady      

Hombres                                   Men                             Si                                 Yes

Jefe     Boss                             Toro                             Bull

Kilometers                                Similar to miles              Tres                             Three

Loco    Crazy                           Vaquero                       Cowboy

Lucharia                                   Fight                             Veranda                       Covered porch

Manana                                                Tomorrow                     Viejo                            Old      

Mamacitas                                Mommies



















Pepito and his grandfather sat on the veranda enjoying the warm afternoon.  Suddenly a loud commotion from the village square got their attention.  In the square a birthday party was in progress.

            “Look, Grandfather.” Pepito pointed at the scene below.  “The children have a piñata.  Those are such fun.”

            “Si, mi nieto, “Grandfather replied. “Children love the piñatas and did you know it was not so long ago the piñata was invented right here in the village Polvoriento Campo?”

            “Right here?  Really?” Pepito asked.

            “Yes.” Grandfather answered.  “And if you would like I will tell you the histori of the piñata.”

            “Oh, yes, el abuelo, I’d like that very much.” Pepito said and the old man told his this tale:

Sandoval Hombre Paja was very unusual man.  He was created him from old clothes and boots, stuffed full of straw.  His cavaza was a small stuffed flour sack with buttons for eyes and mouth and a thread spool for a nose.  He wore a nice sombrero which was not too old and ragged. 

Sandy, as he was called, did not possess much in the way of education, so he had to take menial jobs and mostly he trabajo as a scarecrow, keeping crows and other birds away from people’s gardens and orchards of vegetables and fruits.  He made very little money but was always thrifty and he saved his dinero and purchased a nice little adobe hut on the edge of town.

He was so proud to have his own home and every night when he said his prayers, he ended them by saying, “Now I have everything I ever wanted.  I am truly blessed.”

Time passed and on the weekends he spent the afternoons down at the village square talking with other men and watching the children play.

            “I wish I had a son like those boys playing there.”  He said unconsciously to a man sitting next to him.  Then he realized he didn’t ‘have everything he deseado.’


Over the next few days the thought of having his own son consumed him.  It was all he thought about noche and day.  Finally, he went to see Ophelia the basket maker and ask if she could weave a

boy for him.   She said she would try and then set about the task and a few days later presented him with the finished product.  It was perfect!  A fine likeness of a boy of seven or eight years old.  She even hecho un pequeno sombrero that sat on the top of his head. 


Sandy grabbed the boy and headed home as fast as he could go.  There he just stared at the boy and smiled.

            “Let’s see.” He said. “I will name you Juan Jose Hombre Paja.  Yes, that is a fine nombre….   I can call you Johnny and you can call me Papa.”

            “Pa-pa.”  Johnny spoke his first word.

            “That’s right!” Sandy beamed.  “Papa and Johnny… Johnny and Papa.”


Johnny was made of strong reeds and grape vine and could run a play as good as any boy.  This made Sandy was so proud and he would tell anyone that would listen. “Look at my boy Johnny.  Es el mejor chico in the whole village… maybe in all of Mexico.”


This would not set so well with other parents.  “Who does he think he is?”  They would whisper to each other. “Speaking that way about a boy made of twisted weeds and vines.  And do you see the way he spoils that dummy, giving him any thing he asks for.”

It was true, Sandy sought to give Johnny anything his heart desired and Johnny had plenty of desires: a pony, a bicycle, a trampoline and a new bed built in the shape of a rocket .. and that was just on Monday alone. 


One day Johnny asked. “Papa, you know what I’d really like to have?”    

            “What would you like my precious boy?” Sandy stood at the ready.  “Just name it and Sandoval Hombre Paja will fetch it right away.”

            “I want candy.” Johnny said.

            “Candy?” Sandy asked. “Ques es todo desea?”

            “I want all the candy that’s in the village.” Johnny explained.  “I want it all… so no one else can have any… solo mi.”

            “And you deserve it too.”  Sandy held the boy high in the air and gave him a big hug.  “I will go and buy up all the candy in the village.”


That was just the beginning, everyday the straw man would go round the village buying up all the candy.  It wasn’t long before the other children in the area were getting very cranky because they had no candy to sweeten them up.  Every time they or their parents would inquire at the grocery about candy, they were told, “Siento mucho, but the hombre paja has comprador todo.”


One day, some children decided to follow Sandy home from the grocery and see where he was hiding all of the candy.   Peeking through the window of the straw man’s hut, they saw him bring the sack of candy to the table where Johnny waited.  Then he lifted up Johnny’s sombrero and poured the candy into the opening at the top of Johnny’s head.

            “That’s loco.” One boy said. “Juan has no boca verdadera to eat the candy, yet he wants to keep it all to himself so no nadie mas can have any.”

            “He is very tacano.” Another said.  “Let us hide in bushes and when the hombre paja goes to scare the crow, we will make Juan give to us some candy.”


It wasn’t long before Sandy was off to work and the children who were hiding went to the hut and knocked loudly on the door.

            “Open up, Juan!” They shouted.  “We have come for the candy.  Abra the door!”

Johnny just laughed and shouted back. “Go away, there is not enough candy to go around.  There’s just enough for me.”

            “Let us in!” They shouted back. “Or we will knock the door down, take the candy and set you on fire.”

Oh, this was not good news, Johnny thought.  His outer layer of reeds and vine was very dry and if it came in contact with a flame, ‘POOF’ just like that he would become una pila de cenizas.

            “Ok, ok.” He called back. “Uno  momento and I will give you the candy.”

            “Solo un momento.” A boy warned Johnny. “But no tricks.”


Johnny was not about to give up the candy so easily and crept over to window on the side of the hut and crawled out.  A boy peeking through another ventana saw what Johnny was doing and alerted the other ninos and the chase was on.  Johnny was very quick but there many after him and he felt them closing in. 

            “Caramba!” He called out as he ran fast as he could and leaped for the middle of the trampoline. BOING!  He sprung high into the aire right at the big Oak tree.  He grabbed a branch and held on for dear life.  Sintio seguro hanging there above the reach of the others.

            “Come down, usted chico tacano!” The children shouted. “Come down and give to us some candy.”

            “Go away, gloton ones.” Was his reply.  “I can hang here till Papa comes and chases you away.”

Benito, one of the bigger boys, went out behind the hut and returned with a long bamboo fishing pole.

            “Come down or I’ll knock you down with this pole.” Benito threatened.

Johnny didn’t worry, he thought he could dodge the pole if they swung it at him.  They did and he did for a while. Then Benito swung the pole as hard as he could and struck Johnny in the leg and knocked it clean off.  Candy went everywhere and the children raised a cloud of dust as they dove in the dirt after it.  It was such a sight to see the children scramble and fight over the candy that Johnny laughed so hard he fell to the ground.  Long after the children had picked up all the candy and went home, Johnny was still laughing, even as Sandy returned home from work.


            “What has happened to my prescioso boy?” He cried when he saw Johnny sitting in the dirt with one leg torn off.

When Johnny told him what had transpired, Sandy became very angry and threatened to have the sheriff arrest them all and put them in the carcel.

            “I will see that they are in jail until they are thirty five years old.” He said.

            “No, no, Papa.” Johnny laughed.  “It was fun.  Just sew my leg back on and get me some more candy and all will be well.”

            “As you wish, my son.” The straw man said. “But I do not understand this at all.”

With that Sandy got his heavy duty twine and sewed Johnny’s leg back in place and fue bueno como nuevo.


Thereafter, cada dos o tres dias when Sandy came home from work he’d find Johnny laughing like loco, sitting underneath the Oak tree missing a leg or arm and the candy all gone.


Soon word of the incidents spread through out the providence.  People started showing up at Sandy’s door wanting to know if they could hire Johnny to come and perform his candy routine at birthdays, festivals and other children’s parties.  Sandy and Johnny agreed and soon business was booming. 


Then as time passed, Johnny was getting pretty ragged from all the beatings.  Even though it was very good money. they knew they could not continue or Johnny would be damaged permanently.  There was only una cosa to do:  Make paper mache Johnnies, filled with candy and sell them.  Make them they did and sell them they did by the hundreds.  They came complete with instructions:  Blindfold a child, spin them in circles, hand them a long pole and let them try to hit the little ‘johnnies’ that fueron suspenditos from above.


            “So, Pepito, this is how the piñata came to be.”  Grandfather concluded. “And it all began right here in this village.’

            “Grandfather, how come they call it piñata instead of a johnny?”  Pepito asked.

            “What, why do they call…” Grandfather repeated the unexpected pregunta.  “Let’s see… Oh, si, did I forget to tell you that part?  Well, it was like this, after the business got going good, Sandy went back to see Ophelia el fabricante de canasta and had her make a little sister for Johnny.   They named the pretty little girl Pinata Maria and as to honor her they named their product ‘Pinata’ and from that day to this all those brightly painted paper mache figures are known as Pinatas.”

            “That is a good story.” Pepito said. “But now I am hungry for candy.”




Abra    Open                            Loco                             Crazy              

Abuelo                                      Grandfather                  Nadie mas                    No one else

Aquacil                                     Sheriff                          Noche y dia                  Night and day

Bendijo                                     Blessed                         Nombre                        Name

Boca verdadera                        Real mouth                   Ocultar                         Hiding

Bonita nina                                Pretty little girl               Perfeccione                  Perfect

Cada dos o tres dias                 Every few days Piñata                           Pinata

Cada vez                                  Each time                     Precioso                       Precious

Caramba                                   Wow                            Poco proximos dias        Next few days

Carcel                                      Jail                               Polvoriento Campo        Dusty Camp

Cavaza                                     Head                            Precioso                       Precious

Comprador todo                      Purchased all of it         Ques es todo desea      That is all you want

Comprenda                               Understand                   Quiza                            Maybe

Cuervos                                    Crows                          Reido                            Laughed

Deseado                                   Desired                         Roble                            Oak tree

Diario  Each day                      Si                                 Yes

Dinero                                      Money                          Si, mi nieto                    Yes, my  grandson

Dulce  Candy                           Sento mucho                 I’m very sorry

El fabricante de canasta            The basket maker         Siempre deseado          Always wanted

El luna                                      Monday                        Sintio seguro                 He felt safe

El major chico                           The best boy                 Solo mi                         Only me

El negocio retumbaba                Business boomed           Solo un momento           Just a moment

Es el majer chico                      He is the best boy         Sombrero                     Hat

Fue bueno como Nuevo           It was good as new       Tacano                         Stingy

Fueron suspenditos                   Were suspended           Trabajado                    Worked

Gloton  Glutton                          Treinta cinco                 Thirty five

Golpeado fuertemente                Knocked loudly             Una cosa                      One thing

Harapeinto                                Ragged                         Una pila de cenizas        A pile of ashes

Hecho un pequeno                    Made a small                Usted chico tacano       You stingy boy

Hombre Paja                             Straw man                    Veranda                       Large covered porch




© 2012 Larkin Thompson

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your stories are wonderful. I think you may be writing for an older child then you think you are. Grade school I would call about 6 to 10. Your more complex use of language seems more fitting with an early pre teen. say 10 to 14. I am not saying one should speak down to young children, but they see the world differently. To young children for example faces are much bigger. Instead of an aggressive bull a bull with the fire red eyes. Very young children see emotions in the face the eye the color. To very young children the facial expression of anger actually comes before the emotion. In older children the emotion comes first then the expression. Quibbs about age aside I enjoyed your stories and may yet learn more then a few bad words in spanish

Posted 12 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


your stories are wonderful. I think you may be writing for an older child then you think you are. Grade school I would call about 6 to 10. Your more complex use of language seems more fitting with an early pre teen. say 10 to 14. I am not saying one should speak down to young children, but they see the world differently. To young children for example faces are much bigger. Instead of an aggressive bull a bull with the fire red eyes. Very young children see emotions in the face the eye the color. To very young children the facial expression of anger actually comes before the emotion. In older children the emotion comes first then the expression. Quibbs about age aside I enjoyed your stories and may yet learn more then a few bad words in spanish

Posted 12 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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1 Review
Added on March 25, 2012
Last Updated on March 25, 2012
Tags: Children, children's stories, fun, Mexico, family, learning


Larkin Thompson
Larkin Thompson

Gardnerville, NV

Once I began to phase in retirement, I took up writing. Done lots of unused screen plays. Have on Kindle books about Early Rock and Roll, Childhood adventures and fiction. Have here at present shor.. more..