Writing Characters

   If one is to write a story, what are the most important parts of the story? There are two that come to my mind: Character's and plot. How does one make good characters? Here's my theory:
   Goof off.
   That's right. Write goofy stuff about your characters. Write about your characters doing stupid, silly, goofy stuff. Write this before you have even attempt the big story. Get to know your character's and get to know your plot. Most of all, have fun. So, without further to do, here's a story of my characters goofing off:

Rambo
   There are two things I've always wanted to do:
1. Win the lottery.
   I'm not actually sure what the lottery is. However, from what I've learned, it seems that you make up a series of 20 or so numbers and then you win a barrel of bacon. Yummy.
2. Get into the bird's nest on top of the human's front porch.
   Number 2 was what I was going to conquer today (since Trumpet and I could only come up with eleven numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and Sausage). That was my explanation to Spot when I said I needed forty feet of balertwine.
   "Really?" Spot asked. "You need forty feet?"
   "Yep," I replied. "How else am I going to get on top of the porch?"
   Spot rolled her eyes, but measured out the rope. See, Spot is the one that nests in a large roll of twine, so she is the one to go to whenever you need rope.
   Trumpet and I gladly took the balertwine from Spot and prepared to use it to climb on top of the porch roof. Perhaps a little description would be helpful:
   The Porch juts out from the side of the house, with a set of five steps leading up to the cement porch floor. The house is on west side of the porch, with a small flowerbed on the east side. Beside the sidewalk, which leads to the porch steps, about four feet from the northeast corner of the porch, is a large pine tree. About the same distance from the southeast corner of the porch is another pine tree. If, say, a piece of twine was thrown from one tree to the other (a distance of thirty feet) the twine would stretch over the flower bed. This would provide a tightrope which would provide easy access to the rain gutter at the edge of the porch roof.
   Stretching the twine was easier said than done, but it eventually was done. That left the actual crossing of it and the jumping from the twine to the porch.
   I glanced at Trumpet.
   He shook his head. "Hey. This was your idea. I'll let you do the honors."
   I scowled, then turned back to the tree. It was simple getting to the branch where the twine had been tied. It was more difficult getting across the twine to a spot where I could jump onto the roof. Eventually, however, I was in position and, with a deep breath, flung myself toward the roof.
   I landed with precision (which is, to say, I landed flat on my face, but Trumpet doesn't need to know that) and darted off for the bird's nest. In it I found exactly what I was looking for.
   As I turned back to face the twine, I gazed out over the yard. To my right was the pastures, and Caesar who was snuffling something, but directly in front of me was a large dog treat that neither was calling my name.
   Well, it was calling someone's name. Trumpet and I hadn't decided who should get it and, rather than do the obvious thing and share, we had decided to flip for it. After doing the best out of 500, the coin had flown up in the air and landed in the bird's nest. Now, however, I had it again in my hands.
   Leaping down (and landing on my feet, of course), I rushed over to where Trumpet sat in front of the northeasterly pine tree.
   "Call it," I said.
   "Heads," Trumpet replied.
   I flipped the coin, tried to catch it, and missed awfully. It landed on the ground, portraying an eagle. "Tails!"
   "Nu-uh!" Trumpet shouted. "That's an eagle's head!"
   I wasted no time arguing, I was headed for the treat. I flew across the lawn and arrived beside the treat just in time...
   ... to see Caesar gulp it down contentedly.
   I turned around to look at Trumpet in horror.
   He shrugged and made his way over. "Now what?"
   I turned to look over at the barn. "Maybe Spot can help us think up more numbers! 'Cause I'm pretty sure Sausage doesn't count."
The End.