Sally Brown Charlie Brown Novels & Stories

Suddenly, a young boy’s voice came through. He subtly pushed Taylor aside and extended his hand to Charlie. This boy looked like he was ten, or so Charlie thought. He had brown hair. He was slightly underweight-looking, and his forehead was somewhat broader. This boy gave Charlie an extra wide smile and said, “Hi, I’m Carl! Taylor told me all about you!” Charlie fell confused. She glanced at Taylor, silently asking. Taylor coughed against his fist and explained, “Just today. I told him about you just today.”

Suddenly, a young boy’s voice came through. He subtly pushed Taylor aside and extended his hand to Charlie. This boy looked like he was ten, or so Charlie thought. He had brown hair. He was slightly underweight-looking, and his forehead was somewhat broader. This boy gave Charlie an extra wide smile and said, “Hi, I’m Carl! Taylor told me all about you!” Charlie fell confused. She glanced at Taylor, silently asking. Taylor coughed against his fist and explained, “Just today. I told him about you just today.”

I looked at him dryly, "You technically just rewrote Goldilocks, but you changed her name to Silverstraight and replaced the bears with hares." "What? It was still a nice story!" His arms flew, making his wings push back with it. Sally, a staff of DCFC, sarcastically said, "Be careful Charlie, your wings might get broken!" "Thank you, Sally!" Charlie grinned, thanking her sincerely. He patted his wings properly and wiggled his butt on his seat. "Where did you get your oblivious personality from?" Beth told him with wide eyes. "People said that I got a little of it from my mom." He shrugged.

“These are amazing. You’ve been holding out on me, woman.” I rolled my eyes. “They’re okay, I guess.” He sniffed over my modesty and shook his head. “Okay, as in, AKA amazing.” Charlie nodded. “I gotta say, I might even like them better than our mom’s fudge brownies.” Then she pointed around the room. “But none of you heard me say that.” “Ummm,” Izzy sang, “I’m calling Mom right now and telling on you.” Charlie threw a pillow in her face. “Don’t you dare.”

Cillian shot back. "Well, then I guess we'll have to become friends, Mean Uncle. My name is Charlie and I'm four and a half years old, and I have a rare disease and I'm sick a lot. You're sick too, aren't you? We're going to get along really well, just you wait, Mean Uncle." He sounded like the most confident brat. Perhaps it was that, or the fact that he also bore the one name Cillian found himself hating as of late, that made Cillian's expression twist, his eyes darken.