What I love most about colors is you can mix them in amazing gradients. My latest work, which was completed just before my 30-day trial on Adobe Illustrator expired, shows a nicely silhouetted Jacken in the foreground watching the sun rise. If this doesn’t prove how creative and artistic I really am, I don’t know what does.
What I have here are four stories about some characters from my fictional world of Blockopolis. Each one has 88 lines, 44 rhymes, and 7-8 syllables per line. If I ever come up with more for my other characters, I’ll be more than glad to upload them. This just might be my longest post yet. And one posted on what would have been my mother’s 49th birthday. I’ll always love you, Mom.
1. Jacken of All Trades (Jacken DeBox)
3.5 Blocky Point Way, where it’s fun time every day.
Inside, you’ll find four fine friends, each with very special trends.
One is shaped just like a top – when he soars, he doesn’t flop.
One collects all kinds of beads. One has clay to fill his needs.
Now, this friend is quite a laugh – he’s the leader of the staff.
With his box and lanky arms, he possesses many charms.
He can sing, but that’s not all, he plays music standing tall.
His exploits are always crackin’. This performer’s name is Jacken.
One day, Jacken chose to go to the innermost park show.
There, some folks would entertain, doing stuff that’s not mundane.
He rode Nespa into town, hoping to become the clown.
Once they got there, they would find candidates of very kind.
“Poppin’ weasels!” Jacken stated. “I think we might be belated.”
Nespa said, “Don’t fret just yet, I’m-a sure your place is set.”
“Yeah,” said Jacken, now at ease, “there’s a table by those trees -
let’s go there to check my name and I’ll tell ‘em why we came!”
Off he went, that jack-in-box. He’s as cunning as a fox.
Just last week, he signed in early; so did someone who was burly.
He, too, wanted recognition, entertainment was his mission.
Punchline is his name, you see. He’s as ruthless as can be.
Jacken was a little tense due to Punchline’s lack of sense.
He was puzzled how the brute would not ever give a hoot
who was in the ample crowd but still come out strong and proud.
Nespa said, “Is not so good,” as the plot was understood.
Jacken had to think real fast, for his chance would be his last.
At this time, his only bit was to play his latest hit.
He would play it on his Squeezen – when he did, he had been pleasin’.
This time, though, he needed more so he’d not be such a bore.
Nespa brought him to a spot where some friends would help a lot.
Tipper, Wobble, Clumpy, too – they’d tell Jacken what to do.
Jacken said to them, “Hi, guys! Glad to see ya, nice surprise!
Listen, could you help me out? I need vigor, I need clout.”
Wobble was the first to speak – he suggested with a squeak,
“How about a balance beam? I know that will be a scream!”
Jacken grinned, “That’s what I need! It should help me take the lead!”
So into his box he zipped. Inside, it was like a crypt.
He was quick, that gadabout. Pretty soon, he popped back out
and produced a wooden pole. “It’s not much, but it won’t roll.”
He placed one end on a chair – brought by Tipper, one to spare.
“As I play, I’ll have some fun and astonish everyone!”
Clumpy, filled with inspiration, offered his imagination.
“Your performance needs some art. Would you let me have a part?”
“Absolutely!” Jacken said, “You could play a loaf of bread.”
Both of them knew this could work, as they thought of one good perk:
Jacken would dress like a baker and hold one big pepper shaker,
pour the pepper all around, then the bread would make a sound.
Soon, the bread would start to sneeze, blowing slices in the breeze.
Jacken liked where this was going. Rhythmic bread – now that’s worth showing!
It was Tipper’s turn to shine, it made Jacken feel quite fine.
With the muscle and the spin, Tip was sure to help him win
and impress the folks in town, so he tilted upside-down.
Jacken followed his command – he showed him where he should stand.
“This last part should make ‘em cheer. On my feet, you’ll stand right here.”
Jacken had no time to waste, so he jumped on without haste.
“Next, I’ll spin you, very quickly. Leap and land – it won’t be prickly.”
This rehearsal was successful. Now the show would be less stressful!
It was showtime, all was waiting. Some were done participating.
Even Punchline had a turn, but he had a lot to learn.
With his jokes, he sounded rude. He was pelted with some food.
You might say some folks were vexed. Up was Jacken, he was next.
Jacken’s friends were right behind. They were guests – they did not mind.
Jacken would belt out his tune, then the three would join in soon.
Tipper brought his folding chair. Clumpy hopped on like a hare.
Wobble hobbled with the beam. They would make a perfect team.
There stood Jacken, set to play with the music underway.
As he played, he jumped straight back on the beam and stayed on track.
Beam held up by chair and Wobble. Jacken’s box began to bobble.
Jacken had no trouble, though – he was putting on a show!
On the stage Bread Clumpy sat. Jacken donned a baker’s hat.
Held the pepper in his hand, ready for what had been planned.
With a sprinkle and a whiff, slices spread out in a jiff.
Clumpy’s slices formed a face – this was falling into place!
Jacken’s bit was almost done. To the center Tipper spun.
Stood on both hands upside-down, ready to impress the town.
Jacken jumped on Tipper’s feet. As he played, he kept the beat.
Soon, he spun around real fast; he was standing like a mast.
As the tune came to a close, Tipper swiftly thrust his toes.
He pushed Jacken very high thirty feet into the sky.
Jacken’s box – it twirled and turned. Soon, the show would be adjourned.
But the box crashed through the floor, silencing the praising roar.
Jacken’s friends walked up to stare at the hole – a perfect square.
All eyes looked upon that hole. Seemed like Jacken missed his goal.
Suddenly, he reappeared, popping up and looking weird.
Played his final notes with glee. Gave a hearty “Ha-ha-hee!”
He was met with warm applause all because he had no flaws.
He was given newfound talents: stiffness, wiggling, zest, and balance.
Nespa rolled up to commend Jacken as a thoughtful friend.
Everything turned out all right – Jacken was the park delight!
2. Tipper to the Skies (Tipper Tawp)
At the corner by the curb, friendships flourish like a herb.
On the top floor, you will see someone with a specialty.
He’s a top with great perception; this is not a misconception.
When he doesn’t spin about, he can stretch his limbs right out.
He has pluck from neck to leg, he’s as sturdy as a keg.
His round body serves him well, it looks shiny like a bell.
Best of all, he likes to fly, spinning straight into the sky.
Always firm and always chipper, everybody calls him Tipper.
It was morning, 6 o’clock. Tipper went out for a walk.
As he left the boarding house, he was feeling like a grouse,
free to go where he would please, down the streets and through the trees.
This top knew his way around, from the hills right to the ground.
He would greet some friendly faces as he stopped to see the places:
Park, library, transit center, anyplace where he could enter.
At his last stop on the edge, Tipper promptly took a pledge:
“Someday, I would like to glide so I’ll see things far and wide.”
Tipper spun back to his dwelling with his daydream now compelling.
He found Jacken in the hall, hanging pictures on the wall.
Then he said to him, “Hey, Jack, just went strolling, now I’m back!”
“Hiya, Tipper,” Jacken spoke, “you look fit, and that’s no joke!”
“I’ve seen landscapes and the ocean, but this time, I have this notion.”
“Let me hear it!” Jacken said, “You can tell me, go ahead.”
Just then, Tipper did reply, “I will dive down from the sky.
As I slowly glide back down, I will wholly see our town.”
Jacken pictured Tipper’s dream – made his hat bells shake and gleam.
“I’m quite happy for ya, Tip! Just be careful you don’t slip.
Here’s a helmet to protect ya so the landing won’t affect ya.”
Tipper chuckled, “That’s all right. I don’t need one for my flight.
I’ll have Rags make me some wings to prevent misguided swings.”
Jacken seemed a little cautious, lesser safety made him nauseous,
But he’s known his friend for years. Tipper always faces fears.
“Who am I to break your vow? Let’s go get your wings right now!”
So the two friends made their way to a workshop painted gray.
Inside, you’ll find lots of clothes. Rags is good at crafting those.
Jacken told her without jest, “Tipper has just one request.”
Tipper said, “Hello there, Rags, have you wings to build some drags?”
Rags replied, “Well, that’s absurd – you’re a top and not a bird.”
Tipper went to take the lead, “Thicker sheets are what I need.”
Just so Rags would get the gist, he displayed his hip and wrist.
“I will free fall from the sky, spread my arms out while I fly.”
Tipper’s goal left Rags astounded – it was graver than it sounded.
But she knew the top had poise, which amazed the local toys.
“Well, okay! I’ll make your wings. Let me get some sheets and strings.”
So she made a flying suit, stable like a parachute.
Tipper tried it on for size. It looked great, it matched his eyes.
When he spun, it didn’t chafe. Now he knew he would be safe.
He thanked Rags and gave her cash, left with Jacken in a flash.
Rags, uncertain, said to wait, but alas, she was too late.
Now elated and all set, Tipper would be flying yet.
He and Jacken took the stairs to the Roof of Anywheres.
Tipper’s chopper had been waiting to be out and elevating.
Call him Helix, that’s his name. Widespread flying is his game.
Jacken saw his friend was steady. “Okay, Tipper, are ya ready?”
Tipper gave a poised reply: “Is a desert always dry?”
He hopped in and took control. Helix then began to roll.
“Whee! Huh-huh! On with the show! Let’s get started! Up we go!”
Up they went, the top and chopper. Soon, the dive would be a whopper.
Jacken watched with expectation as they reached their elevation.
Now eight thousand feet up high, Tipper was prepared to fly.
He looked down, held up his chest. “Time to do what I love best!”
Out the door the top did leap, his descent was rather steep.
Helix watched his partner dive, certain he’d come out alive.
Tipper got the perfect view of the city as he flew.
At this time, he spread his wings, launching like two loaded springs.
Jacken just kept standing there with his eyes fixed to the air.
He saw Tipper in the distance full of power and persistence.
Rags showed up right at that time from the stairs she had to climb.
She saw Jacken and she cried, “Jacken! Tipper cannot glide!”
Jacken said, “What do you mean? His new suit is strong and lean.”
Rags told him it had no zipper – that spelled trouble for ol’ Tipper.
Sure enough, the wings gave way, caused the fall to go astray.
He was headed for the coast. Without drag, he would be toast!
Rags and Jacken watched in fright as the top fell from the height
with his wings loose from the hips. Felt his safety in eclipse.
Less than eighteen hundred feet, his descent turned up the heat.
Tipper had the chance to think. He thought hard, he did not blink.
He flipped back, toes pointed down, making sure he would not drown.
Arms were straight, wings still connected. To the house he was directed.
With his body now in check, Tipper quickly moved his neck.
His arms spun with utter force. He slowed down and stayed on course.
Tipper’s new airborne rotation brought him to the right location.
Jacken cheered for his return. Rags had just one thing to learn:
Right before you sell your things, have them checked for loosened strings.
Tipper was apologetic for his being too frenetic.
Rags forgave him, she could see how his flight was meant to be.
Jacken said this day was great and that they should celebrate.
Helix, on the helipad, beamed with pleasure. All was glad
now that Tipper got a view of Blockopolis. It’s true!
3. Wobble’s Bead Bowl (Wobble Overbend)
Cue the home, four stories tall, big for someone pretty small.
This someone happens to be a push puppet, so you see.
Weighing only seven ounces, he’s quite fun each time he bounces.
He’s ambitious, but he’s rash. One false move could make him crash.
This small fellow likes to dance, even in his silly stance.
And that hat he wears each day makes him tall. What can he say?
Making bead art is his pleasure. Beads, to him, are just like treasure.
He’s a carefree kind of friend. His name’s Wobble Overbend.
Wobble brought a little broom to sweep up a special room.
It was cleaning time today, so he’d have to wait to play.
To that room the toy did go: Wobble-Clumpy Studio.
With a dustpan by his side, he would have a sense of pride.
“Now it’s time to sweep the dust! Thorough cleaning is a must!”
Back and forth, he swept with ease, through this small task he did breeze.
After cleaning up real fast, Wobble saved the best for last:
One big bowl chock-full of beads. Some were shaped like little seeds.
This bead bowl was thick and strong. Cleaning it would not take long.
With the broom in his small grip, Wobble swept it up with zip.
That big bowl just kept him busy, but it never made him dizzy.
When he stopped, he looked and found that his beads were on the ground.
“Looks like I swept without care. Now my beads are everywhere!”
Just then, Clumpy came inside. Some stray beads caused him to slide.
Clumpy slid and hit the wall, causing Wobble’s bowl to fall
on his face with one big smack. Now those beads were on his back.
One big bead mess Wobble made caused his chore to be delayed.
“What just happened?” Clumpy wondered. Wobble told him, “I just blundered.
I just cleaned my bowl, you see, but I did it clumsily.
After that, you came and slid. I’m ashamed of what I did.”
Clumpy never bellyaches, they both learn from their mistakes.
So he pardoned Wobble’s mess and he used his own finesse
to shapeshift into a ball and pick up the beads in all.
Even though the room was neat, Wobble’s bowl was incomplete.
Following that one collision, Wobble made a wise decision.
And so said the small bead-lover, “What I need is one bowl cover.”
Clumpy told him he concurred and that he knew just the bird
with the lavish kitchenware who’d be more than glad to share.
So they both rushed out the door, straight to Chickpea’s kitchen store.
When they got there, they saw Jacken with a sandwich he was stackin’
in his special box for lunch. He told Chickpea, “Thanks a bunch!”
“It’s my pleasure,” Chickpea said, pleased to have her guest well-fed.
Jacken saw his two odd friends, both of whom had odds and ends.
“Hiya, Wobble! So, what’s poppin’? Are ya here to do some shoppin’?”
Wobble said, “You bet I am!” Then, he asked, “What did you cram?”
“In my lunch box? Just my meal. It cost five bucks – what a deal!”
“Welcome, dearies,” Chickpea spoke. “What brings you to my Egg Yolk?”
Clumpy told her, “Wobble needs something to encase his beads.”
Wobble showed Chickpea his bowl. She could tell it wasn’t whole.
She told them, “I’ve just the thing! Wait one moment. Cluck-a-DING!”
Chickpea turned and gaily showed something shiny from her load.
“Here’s a glass lid you could try. It’s as round as any pie!”
On the bead bowl she did place it. Pretty patterns sure did grace it.
And it had a little knob, which was good for little Wob.
This lid was a perfect match for protecting Wobble’s batch.
Clumpy changed and then he poured all the beads that had been stored.
With the lid closed, they could tell that the bowl was rather swell.
“Now I have a guarded nest!” Wobble spoke, “Now for a test…”
Though the lid was his to keep, Wobble chose to go and sweep
with his handy dandy broom, so he started with a zoom!
Wobble’s sweeping was quite thrilling, and the lid kept beads from spilling.
His small arms went to and fro, twirling like a tornado.
As the sweep kept Wobble busy, Chickpea watched and she got dizzy.
Spinning eyes and nauseous face, falling back right off her base.
Wobble’s act, no doubt, did blind her, made her hit the shelves behind her.
Those shelves were about to fall, and for help Chickpea did call.
Chickpea’s shelves were poorly built, so they were about to tilt.
Jacken rushed and reached the top, to the fall he put a stop.
Now the bowls and plates were falling, prompting Clumpy to his calling.
So he darted like a gun and caught every single one.
Meanwhile, Jacken’s lunch box fell – this nobody did foretell.
This box came down in a tick and hit Wobble like a brick.
Then it landed on the ground with a little clanky sound.
Clumpy looked back – big mistake – caused one bowl to fall and break.
Chickpea’s shelves were soon restored, right down to the lowest board.
Everything was put away, save for one bowl made from clay.
Wobble said with great compunction, “Sorry ’bout my slight malfunction.
I don’t have that much control. Hey, why don’t you take my bowl?”
Chickpea looked at Wobble’s face. She believed she could replace
that one bowl, which had been stained, with the one the toy retained.
“This is one of your best deeds! But what else can hold your beads?”
Something stable Wobble sought was the lunch box Jacken brought.
Back at home, one thing had changed – Wobble’s hoard was rearranged.
Wobble’s generosity was what satisfied Chickpea.
And for that, Wobble received Jacken’s box, which he believed
was the best at sitting still so the beads would never spill.
Clumpy poured the beads like so, said, “All righty, in you go!”
Wobble closed the box’s lid, then he cheered. That’s what he did.
“Yay! Our place is nice and clean! Now, what say we split the scene?”
He and Clumpy both walked out for a splendid time, no doubt!
4. Clumpy’s Perfect Pose (Clumpy Gumbottom)
Boarding house on Blocky Point. Sixteen windows at the joint.
Look through one and you will find someone with a special mind.
Two-thirds purple, one-third teal, this clay being has appeal.
In his can he sleeps at night so his texture’s soft and right.
He can change shape for enjoyment. Sculpting art is his employment.
Standing by the name, ‘Gumbottom,’ he makes sculptures during autumn,
which then harden during winter, but he works fast like a sprinter.
Rather sly and somewhat jumpy, he’s the one and only Clumpy.
By a river, Clumpy strolled, letting his great mind unfold.
He was seeking inspiration so he’d function at his station.
Anything he came upon would be useful later on.
With his body, he could copy anything and not be sloppy.
As he walked, he saw some creatures – little toy birds with cute features.
Pretty soon, they flew away after having their buffet
at a Teddy-berry bush – this gave Clumpy’s mind a push.
“I know what I’ll make,” he said, “Birds and Bush!” And off he sped.
Clumpy ran back to the house. His two clay hands he did douse.
From his stash, he took some clay to make what he’d seen today.
He then cut it into thirds, one of which was for the birds.
Clumpy, keeping his voice low, said “All righty, here I go.”
His wet hands went everywhere, crafting his new work with care.
As his clay-made bush unfolded, little beaks and wings were molded.
Clumpy did not miss a beat. His clay work was near complete.
Stepping out, he held it high. “Now, to take this out to dry!”
Just so Clumpy’s bush would harden, he would take it to a garden.
“It’s the perfect spot,” he said, with the bush above his head.
This one garden, shared by all, had some flowers, short and tall.
He saw Wobble as he walked, with a small box that was locked.
“Hello, Wobble,” Clumpy greeted, just as Wobble felt defeated.
“What ‘cha got there?” asked the molder, with his artwork getting colder.
Wobble answered, “Just this box. I need keys to break these locks.
“Different keyholes, one, two, three. Would you tackle them for me?”
Clumpy loves to help a lot. “Wobble needs my time,” he thought.
“Helping Wobble won’t take long. It’s all good. What could go wrong?”
With a nod, he changed his tail into three keys without fail.
His hands-free task did the trick. Wobble knew his pal was slick.
Now that he undid the locks, they could look into the box.
Clumpy, with some time to bide, asked his friend, “So, what’s inside?”
“Antique beads, as you can see, from the 18th century!
“By the way, your bush looks good!” “Thanks,” said Clumpy, as he stood.
With the task out of the way, Clumpy had no time to play.
While his arms were high and strong, he let Wobble tag along.
Wobble’s beads might come in handy, they were tough like hardened candy.
Berries were what Clumpy needed. To the garden they proceeded.
For a brief time, it was hot there; it was cloudy when they got there.
There, they met some of their friends, all of whom loved nature’s blends:
Jacken, Yonda, Rags, and Boomer. Each one was a garden groomer.
Clumpy did not waste a second. He called out and then he beckoned.
Everybody dropped their tools, which was one of many rules,
and they gathered to see Clumpy and his bush, which now looked lumpy.
“Hello, friends,” he said with ease, though his arms began to freeze.
“Hiya, Clumpy!” Jacken said, “is that for the garden bed?”
“It’s a bush I made from clay. Now it needs a place to stay.”
Yonda, who was sweet with words, said, “I really love your birds.”
Rags and Boomer both admired the design that he acquired.
All this feedback made him beam, but his hands now felt like cream.
Clumpy’s arms were held so high that they had begun to dry.
And the birds and bush he made were as sturdy as a spade.
They were stuck to Clumpy’s hands, which were tight like rubber bands.
Plus, he could not set them down – just enough to make him frown.
“Uh oh,” Clumpy slightly uttered, with his hands enclosed and cluttered.
Jacken said, “You’re in a jam!” Clumpy answered, “I sure am.”
Jacken held the bush real tight and increased his normal height,
lifting Clumpy off the ground. This approach was just unsound.
That clay bush would not get loose. This dilemma was abstruse.
Everyone made their decision to help Clumpy with division.
So their teamwork was concrete. Rags and Yonda grabbed his feet.
Boomer jumped and grabbed his tail. Sadly, no one did prevail.
Wobble eyed his antique beads, “Scraping is what Clumpy needs!”
So he climbed up Jacken’s spring with the beads put on a string.
Under Clumpy’s bush he went, saw the hands glued like cement,
held the bead string in his fists, quickly grinded Clumpy’s wrists.
Soon, the wrists had gotten smaller, Wobble jumped and he did holler,
“Okay, guys, let Clumpy go!” Clumpy said, “Look out below!”
Then his hands became detached, and he came back down unscratched.
All was glad that he was free, though he looked tall like a tree.
Though he was deformed, he said, “An idea just filled my head!”
Told his friends that when he froze he obtained the perfect pose,
which, in fact, could be remade so his view would be portrayed.
“I just need some clay to model!” And with that, he did not dawdle.
Once his hands were back in place, Clumpy worked at his own pace.
To the garden he returned. And some public praise he earned.
Clumpy’s likeness was redone, standing out under the sun
with its hands raised in the air holding Clumpy’s bush with care.
There were Teddy-berries, too, for the birds to pick and chew,
but don’t worry, they were real, each bird had a tasty meal.
This fine work of art would bring lots of smiles in every spring.
Everyone could now discover Clumpy as a nature lover!
What I have here is an update to the picture I made to remind my family and friends of the team my mother formed before her passing away: Team Brenda.
Notice how bright the colors are? I even removed the shadows to make the file smaller. And if you’re wondering why there’s a big open space on the left, I tried to make this picture a cover photo on my Facebook page.
Recently, I got hooked on a Lego franchise consisting of odd-looking creatures you can mix together any way you want. It’s called ‘Mixels.’ I checked out both websites (mixels.com and lego.com/mixels) and boy, there sure was a lot of creativity that brought out the world of Mixels! Currently, there are a total of nine tribes with three Mixels per tribe: Infernites, Cragsters, Electroids (Series 1) Frosticons, Fang Gang, Flexers (Series 2) Glorp Corp, Spikels, Wiztastics (Series 3) When you put three Mixels from the same tribe together, you get a Max. And then there are ‘Nixels,’ puny yet pesky pests whose intentions are to prevent Mixels from mixing. The voice actors involved are the ones you may or may not recognize. The first Mixels I purchased are two Cragsters and two Flexers. I have Seismo (the Tom Kenny Cragster), Shuff (the Jess Harnell Cragster), Tentro (the Phil LaMarr Flexer), and Balk (the Billy West Flexer). Seismo and Shuff were the only series 1 Mixels I managed to get from the Lego store in Downtown Disney in Anaheim, so I had to resort to getting the rest of the series 1 Mixels from amazon.com. Right now, I have Krader (a David P. Smith Cragster) being delivered to me. The package should arrive next week. In the meantime, here are some pictures I took of the Seismo/Tentro and Shuff/Balk mixes!
It may not be much, but it’s a start.
I would like to talk about someone who knows how storytelling is done and made funny for ALL AGES – he’s a native of Virginia.
I first discovered his work on fanfiction.net. The works I read were well thought out and pretty funny. There’s HB House, a sitcom about some of the Hanna-Barbera characters throughout the years living in a boarding house, Muppets Meet the M&Ms Gang, a collection of M&M commercials with the Muppets collaborating, and Muppets Visit Japan, which for some reason makes me think of The Muppets at Walt Disney World.
I continued to search for more of Cullen’s works and came across Battle of the Muppet All-Stars – one of the longest pieces of fan fiction I ever read. Every character featured was spot-on, and they fit perfectly in various situations! I take my hat off to him for his lengthy and humorous literature.
I looked closely at his profile picture on Muppet Central – it had the name ‘Rebusquest’ on it. I searched that and found http://www.therebusquestwebsite.com. And let me tell you, the cartoons he thought up are original and clever in their own way. The main one, Rebusquest, and two others (X.O. Seal and Skelroy and Bonus).
I checked out the page for Fan Creations and saw that it hadn’t been updated in almost a year, so what I did was create drawings of the characters from Rebusquest…
You can also view it on the Fan Creations page on Cullen’s Rebusquest Web site. And while you’re at it and new to Cullen’s work, why don’t you start reading the episodes? The pictures may appear a little rushed, but if you can just focus on the stories being told, you won’t be sorry. His stories are superb.