320 Book: 'Gnu Poo' (and a valediction)

Meet our read-aloud story for December

Hiya, this month’s story is about the trouble that ensues when one boy brings his new gnu, Sue, to school. Like every story for kids, it’s better when you read it aloud. :)

Thanks to my friend Dzana Serdarevic for the wonderful illustrations.

— Jeff

PS. This will be our last Substack post (although I will soon be publishing at least two more books on Amazon). Happily, Dana Gaskin Wenig, who writes our Sustaining Books posts, will now be writing for the “Can we read?” Substack. Look for her work there.

PPS. Thank you for being such a lovely bunch of people to write for. Your messages have sustained me the past few years. Okay, on to the story. …

---

Gnu Poo

On Sunday, 

I got a gnu for my birthday.

A new gnu. 

I named her Sue.

I fed her stew. 

New-gnu-Sue stew.

On Monday,

I took my new gnu Sue to school

and in the middle of show-and-tell,

she went poo.

New-gnu-Sue poo.

Eww.

Everyone

(except me)

flew into a foofaraw,

a new-gnu-Sue-stew-poo to-do

which caused my new gnu Sue to

GALUMPH-GALUMPH-GALUMPH

around the class

and drool

down Melissa's hair

SLOBBA-SLOBBA-SLOBBA

and lick

Kimiko's face

SSSSHHHHHLLLLLUUUUURRRRRPPPPP!

and fart

on Ramon

(twice)

PPFFFFFFTTT ... PPFFFFFFTTT ...

before I could

SHUSH-SHUSH-SHUSH

my new gnu Sue back into contentedness.

Well.

The whole class tromped

to the nurse's office

with a bad case of the

droolin-lickin-fartin-frights.

Except me.

I took my new gnu Sue home.

Who knew the ado new-gnu stew poo could do?

On Tuesday,

the grownups met to talk …

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk

and talk.

Finally,

they voted for a new school gnu rule:

Every kid must bring a gnu to school now.

On Wednesday,

everyone got a brand new gnu.

Even if it wasn't their birthday.

On Thursday,

a gnukeeper taught everybody

(except me, because I knew) how to

clean our gnus

and feed our gnus,

and hold our gnus,

and tickle our gnus,

and keep our gnus in a safe place

when we weren't using them.

We even taught our gnus

to do their poos in loos.

Which they did.

Unless they got excited.

On Friday,

we herded all our gnus to class.

However …

there soon grew a new-gnu hullabaloo as gnus got

wrestly,

wriggly,

jostly,

jiggly,

and most of all

hungry.

Although we thought our gnus knew not to,

they began to eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat

and eat.

Sue, too.

They ate ...

paste pastily

and waste hastily.

Number books (yay!) and story books (boo!).

One ate a hat. Another ate two.

One ate a rag. One ate a bag.

A bunch of them munched the American flag.

One ate a globe, another ate part.

One knocked over the shelf with the art

Soon gnus were eating the glitter and string

(who knew that gnus will eat any old thing),

crayons and markers and sparkles and paint,

food made from what's food and food made from what ain't.

They gobbled great gobs of boas with feathers,

some ate alone and some ate togethers …

And

then

they

paused

while

the oddments and endments and segments of objects

the gnus had been noshing

went moshing and swashing

and washing and sloshing

around each gnu belly.

The classroom got smelly.

We heard the herd rumbling,

and mumbling,

and bumbling,

and grumbling.

I knew what was coming.

I flew to the door to let the gnus loose

just as other kids

in other classes

were loosing gnus, too.

But we were too late …

to stop the new-gnu poo storm.

There ensued a hullaba-gnu,

a gnu-faraw,

and a gnu-haha

as Sue and the gnus went poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

and poo

in the hallways

and the gym

and the nurse's office

and the teachers lounge

and the cafeteria

and the library

and the auditorium

and the principal's office

until we could herd them

outside to the football field,

so they could quietly chew the landscape

as gnus do.

However …

they left behind a steaming, glittering, glowing, beaded, stringy, spangly, bright-feathery trail of gooey new-gnu poo.

Cleanup took all day.

On Saturday,

the grownups met to talk

(but not for very long)

about gnus in schools

and they voted for a new new school gnu rule

that every kid

must never

bring a gnu to school now.

On Sunday,

we all took our gnus to live on a gnu range.

Even Sue.

They are quite contented now

doing what gnus do,

which is to chew and poo.

We rue our gnus

and I miss sue

but due to to poo

we now know school

is never a good place for gnus.

Spread the news.