Welcome to the official site of "Once Upon a Very Bad Plan"!
What's that, you ask?
"Once Upon a Very Bad Plan" is the name of a story I wrote a couple of years ago. Since it's one of my few stories that I'm
proud of, it has the honor of being the star of this site. I hope you enjoy it as much as my friends did.
This site is also the home of OUAVBP's spin-off, also written by me, Gracie. It's called "Once Upon a Trip to Mexico". Be
sure to check it out too!
Here are some quotes from each of the stories to whet your appetites:
Once Upon a Trip to Mexico:
"For a moment, I considered saying, “I am!” in the valiant tone of a Marvel Comics character, and sticking my
finger in the air while striking a heroic pose. But then I pictured Holly stuck on top of the pyramid, whimpering, and waiting
for the cherry picker to arrive. I had to see this."
. . .
“What’s your name?” I asked of the gang leader.
“Angélica,” he said.
Even the roaring wind from having no doors in the van couldn’t muffle my laughter.
“I was named in honor of my grandmother!” he said with dignity, his cheeks pink. “It is no laughing matter!”
. . .
Holly lunged for the bottle. “Give it to me! I have to know!” She wrenched off the cap and stared at its interior,
her face blank with shock.
“What?” I said, concerned. “Does it say, ‘ha ha, you lost, you sucker’?”
Holly rolled her eyes. “No, of course not. They couldn’t fit that on the cap.”
. . .
Once Upon a Very Bad Plan:
My brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know the famous Russians he likes--Ivan the Terrible, Stalin--probably went to Hell. I mean, look at Ivan’s
title: ‘the TERRIBLE’?” She cocked an eyebrow for emphasis. “Definitely Hell fodder.”
. . .
“We tricked Ian into burning a box of Bibles and now God probably wants to flood the entire earth again on our accounts,”
I joined in in jest. “So that leaves us with three choices; we can go meet him and receive our eternal punishments,
sneak away from the city and back down the Magic Golden Staircase, or we can prepare for the inevitable flooding of the earth
and find supplies to build an ark.”
“Right,” breathed Holly, flustered, “you find the animals and I’ll hit Home Depot.”
. . .
Internally, I groaned. This felt like going to the principal’s office. He grabbed us both by the arms and marched us
further down the tunnel. And as with going to the principal’s office, a weighty feeling of dread seeped into the pits
of our stomachs, growing heavier and increasing our anxiety with every step we took. This wasn’t any ordinary principal.
The man in the big chair in the imposing office wasn’t going to give us a sermonette and pat our heads and send us back
to class. The man in the big chair in the imposing office preferred worse forms of torture. Sodom and Gomorra, flooding the
earth, plagues of locusts, killing firstborn sons. Yeah. We didn’t stand a chance.