WEEKLY STORY! September 17-23, 2025

Barrel Creek

In a creek crawling with crevices of crickets was a coordinated craftsman.

Barry was his name.

Barry's barrels didn't bother to break and weren't big in brewing boring beer.

Many thought was lame.

In his creek, Barry's crafting a barrel made of fine steel. He is going to use it to store a time capsule to bury underneath the deep and dreary, yet still fun, creek sands. Barry suffered from a case of antisadness, and could you say is drenched in madness. His barrels go crunch as he flickers and flames, all through the day he will mutter things to his blame.

Did

n't

Barry

Seem

A

Litt

le

Sad?

No he did not he got up and flamed!

Ah-roaring

Ah-boiling

Ah-never the same

Like a hobbit he never seemed to grow sad, but like a man he grew greedy and mad, but only under stressful circumstances.

As he crafts his steel barrel he realizes that he missed a spot. The entire time, he was in for a dime and out for a nickel as he crafts steel-made jar for the pickle. He cooked up the brine, and gutted a swine, to make a dish so utterly delicious even he did the dishes. Thank-full-y, he, did, not, for-get, the salt.

He poured butter and sugar into a pan.

Now that's how caramel was made by this man.

Sweat and tears put into his work.

Now its no surprise people were disgusted.

With a little bit of elbow grease.

At that point people just wandered off.

While Barry is sitting down with a tear in his eye, regret to deny with wings that can't fly, he feels an ache in his thigh and cries "Oh, why, how cruel are thee to never buy my barrels, ye swamp creatures." Then came a thump, then came a bang, oh what a shame Barry's head's the same. A crook, a bandit, a villainous crime, severed the head from the barrel's last rhyme.