The Legendary Mr. Christopherson

As you must have guessed, this issue of the famous Creative Expressions Memory Book is devoted to the incredible architectural accomplishments of certain gifted members of the winter 1996-7 class. To understand the reason why a number of students chose house building for their project, one only has to look to their equally gifted teacher and enthusiastic supporter, the Legendary Mr. Christopherson himself.

The sketch to the right shows the modest little home this great teacher threw together for himself over a weekend last fall. This cozy bungalow provides the relatively small space needed by the great educator. It includes only the necessities: the library with its 11,350,000 books (all of which this brilliant man claims to have read from cover to cover); the cozy auditorium capable of showing full screen Cinerama films, with seating for 20,000 people; the chapel area containing the pipe organ (which has 2,348,037 pipes and features 17, sixty-four foot ranks, providing that rock-solid musical foundation so desired by today's organists); the 150, two thousand plus square foot bedroom suites which provide adequate quarters for the many world class people who are constantly coming and going, seeking advice from this exceptional teacher, who is said to be an expert in just about everything.

Thus, one day early on in the trimester, the idea hit the Legendary Mr. Christopherson to combine his expertise with architecture and the avid appetites of his students for action projects. After the basic houses were designed and built, each student concentrated his/her efforts on customizing their house to their needs.

Annie S.

When this bright young lady was asked why she de­signed her Creative Expressions building to house an im­mense flock of vultures, she just shrugged, smiled, and said, "Well, vultures have to have a home too, don't they?" This proved to be an argument that no one could dispute. As a result, the pleasant little Parkland area in which the home is built now boasts a population of 350,224 vultures, and this number is growing every day. In fact, once the word was out, vultures came cruising in from all parts of the country. There are even a few condors that made it all the way up from the Andes Mountains of South America. (These basically Spanish birds were allowed to spend a few weeks upon arrival at the Danette Cow Cottage and Breakfast House (see the Danette C. story), joining the latino cows there, in order to brush up on their English, so as to mesh better with their other Parkland neighbors.)

To accommodate her special guests this clever girl covered the entire outside walls and roof with thousands of bird houses (an idea actually suggested by the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, a bird lover himself).

One minor problem that has arisen involves the apparent misunderstanding the birds have concerning their air space. Unfortunately, the Annie House is located right under the flight path for McChord Air Force planes. Many vultures saw these planes as a threat and would often attempt to fly up and intercept them--attempt to drive them off. This resulted in huge showers of feathers which covered the whole neighborhood. Eventually, McChord, faced with a cloud of 300,000+ birds in the air, agreed to change its flight path, solving the problem.
 

Casey F.

This highly talented young lady got her home building idea from watching mice running through mazes in a science class taught by the Legendary Mr. Christopherson. She observed that at first the mice did a lot of blundering around but then eventually learned the way through.

She set herself the task of designing a house with rooms interconnected in such a way that they formed a huge maze. The idea was to bring her pet mouse in there and turn him loose in the foyer and see how long it took the little guy to get to the kitchen in the rear of the house.

As it happened, the mouse, named Nickey, mastered the mystery of the Mouse House rather quickly. So much so, that it made a bee-line for the kitchen every time young Casey dropped him in the foyer. Nickey collected his pound of special Norwegian cheese as a reward so often that he soon weighed over one hundred twenty‑seven pounds. (This is where the rumor, still hotly denied by the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, got started that the famous growth hormone invented by the great teacher was in reality a concoction derived from Norske cheeses.)

Finally in an effort to bring her favorite rodent back down to appropriate size, young Casey installed new doors through all the walls allowing her to change the interconnectivity of the maze at will. She was now able to set up such difficult mazes that not only did Nickey almost starve to death (he finally had to be given his own set of keys to all the doors) but even young Casey tended to get lost in the Mouse House, having to resort to her special key ring with its built in geographic satellite tracking  device.
 

Danniel L.

Young Danniel's building project took its direction from the Jonathan C. House of Ballet. However, she decided that she would like to see the performing done by something a little more graceful and elegant than a herd of elephants.

Therefore she built her house around the concept of a trained bunch of chimpanzees playing classical orchestral music. The more she worked with it, the better it got: The chimps would all wear western clothing (which was, by the way, supplied from an ample wardrobe closet in one corner of the famous Creative Expressions classroom, presided over by the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, who approved wholeheartedly of the Danniel Monkey House, as it was soon called). And, instead of cowboy boots, the chimps would be wearing elegant canvas slippers; and instead of the usual musical instruments, the chimps would all be playing harps.

Well, you can probably imagine the high-running emotional tensions in the Parkland area as opening night approached. The house's large hall, seating fifteen people easily, was sold out days before the actual performance. The Legendary Mr. Christopherson attended, but being slightly wary of chimps wearing elegant canvas slippers, he wisely chose a seat at the rear of the room. What an evening! Things started fine. The 1812 Overture began well, chimps beating time by thumping their slippers in unison. But then one musician, Cecilia, got her fingers stuck in the harp strings and chaos ensued, ending with chimps swinging from the light fixtures.

But since then, these talented chimps have seen their musical reputation rise to the very top of the Simian-oriented entertainment charts.
 

Denette C.

In the case of young Danette, the idea for her rather Spanish-styled house came about as the result of a casual remark made by the Legendary Mr. Christopherson one day in class. It seems that a former student dropped in one day to visit, and upon seeing him the Great Teacher shouted, "Ola!" Well, young Danette remembered that this was the Spanish word for "Hello" and it touched off a series of thoughts that flashed through her mind like lightning. (Actually, the Great Teacher later confessed that "Ola" was the student's actual name (Norwegian heritage of course), not a Spanish word.)

She had also just witnessed the extensive ground breaking ceremonies for the Ryan Cow House, kindling in her a kindred passion for cows. This joined with her keen desire to help animals achieve some kind of equality with people. Since she didn't actually speak Spanish herself, she understood the tough time Mexican wetback cows must be having as they worked their way across the southern US border looking for better times in Gringo territory---but knowing no English, so to speak.

Therefore this clever, helpful young lady laid plans for the Denette Cow Cottage and Breakfast House, drawing upon her Legendary Teacher's vast archives of house-plan layouts. She selected a design that had a Spanish touch to it so that her invited guests, "Las vacas del sur," or "southern cows" as she referred to them, would feel more at home as she worked at teaching them English. As the months went by, and her cow classes grew in number, she was eventually able to hold her first graduation ceremony. Many a Denette Cow Cottage cow received her BA degree (Bovine Achievement Degree) right here in Parkland, WA, and a fair number were even fortunate enough, having mastered the English required of them, to move right on to the Ryan Cow House, where they were welcomed with open arms.
 

Douglas T.

Finding himself deeply concerned about the world-wide declining population of frogs and other amphibians, young Doug decided to do something about it.

Not only did he design and build a major frog and salamander shelter in the Parkland suburbs, but he also made arrangements (with the extensive help of his excellent Creative Expressions teacher, the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, who had prestigious amphibious contacts all over the world) to build additional shelters at many locations in most of the major countries of the world.

The Parkland Douglas Swamp House, or PDSW, as it is called, has become the talk of the neighborhood in which it is placed. One particular concern, however, centers on the rather moldy, earthy odor that surrounds the house. This, of course, is due to the extensive swamp‑like atmosphere contained within it. When nearby residents understood that mud and water were necessary for the successful breeding of frogs, they calmed down and stopped complaining, figuring that, after all, these frogs were quite friendly neighbors and everyone agreed that their thunderous croaking during the night was a welcome diversion to the usual McChord jet noise.

Thanks to the worldwide network of Swamp Houses, there is no longer a decline in the frog population. In fact, our old Earth has so many frogs now that people are beginning to need to find new ways to make use of these little croakers. Again, young Doug has hopped right in with a giant contri­bution to help out. He's opened the first Green‑Arches Frog‑Legs Fast-Food Restaurant.

When asked his opinion, the Legendary Mr. Christopherson compassionately remarked, "These restaurants have understandingly received well-deserved praise from the mainstream bovine community!"
 

Dustin W.

Ever since he was a little child, young Dustin had a habit of sticking his head into a hole in the ground whenever he wanted to hide. As he grew older, of course he realized that most of him remained unhidden, but by then the habit was so strong that he often would just plop his head right down in the nearest hole without thinking. With a background such as this, is it any wonder that the boy would feel a definite kinship with ostriches? In fact, by the age of 12 he was already acknowledged as the world's second highest authority on these large flightless birds (the Legendary Mr. Christopherson being the top person in the field, of course).

It was the urging of this Wondrous Teacher that helped young Dustin decide to build a shelter for homeless ostriches, a place where lost birds or birds that were down on their luck could turn for help. To accomodate the birds, most of the floors in the dwelling were left in their natural dirt condition, providing for the quick digging of a head hole for frightened residents. Also, plenty of long, narrow tubes and slots were built into the walls so that the long‑necked birds could do some pleasant exploring when the urge arose.

Though young Dustin has fewer ostriches than the JJ Hen House has hens, the ostrich egg laying capacity has proved to be rather spectacular. The Downtown Parkland Businessmen's Associa­tion has seen fit to honor the Dustin Hole House with their "Great Egg" award, causing many an ostrich to hole‑hide her head in embarrassment.

Thus, yet another of the brilliant Creative Expressions students has built a monument to the glory of the greater Parkland area (and to its Greatest Educator, the Legendary Mr. Christopherson).
 

JJ H.

This clever lad has been known to say, "I've never met a hen I didn't like." Obviously, this affinity to lady chickens led the young JJ to build his now famous Parkland landmark, the JJ Hen House. More than any other Parkland area building, JJ's HH site is regularly sought out by tourists from Seattle and other outlying communities. People love to simply stand within 100 feet of the house and listen to the mighty clucking sounds emanating from inside, coming from the 56,000 or so birds quartered in there.

Just to please his visitors desire to hear more clucking, young JJ will often toss a rooster named Big Russell in through the front door. As the crowd outside waits and listens, the noise level climbs dramatically while Big Russell works him­self from one floor to the next, reacquainting himself with hen after hen. When, finally, the exhausted knocking/pecking sound is heard, the proud young JJ throws open the front door. A rather frazzled Big Russell staggers out to the loud cheers of the onlookers, many of whom will return happily over the next few days to witness the event Parkland folks refer to as "The Great Egg‑Letting."

This building has become so famous that it was recently awarded the coveted "Sunny‑Side‑Up" metal of honor by the well known "Hühnchen Über Alles" Society, based in Germany, not to mention the equally prestigious Downtown Parkland Buisnessmens' Association “Shell-Shocked” Award in recognition for the greatest on record output of eggs in one day.

When the young architect's Great Teacher, the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, was asked where the inspiration for the JJ HH building came from, he could only shake his head in a rather pecking-like motion, while emitting a rather suspicious clucking-like chuckle.
 

Jonathan C.

To the delight of the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, the architectural projects of his students began to take on a certain animal orientation. It just sort of happened. In the case of young Jonathan here, a decision was made to take advantage of the offer of unlimited funds to build whatever sort of house he might want. Therefore he launched himself into the most incredible job that his Legendary Teacher had ever had the pleasure to witness.

It seems that young Jonathan had a hobby of training elephants to dance ballet. Regrettably, we have to point out the rather pushed-in look to the left side of his face (see photo). This facial depression was the result of one of the pachyderms getting carried away during an incredible staging of a ballet adaptation of Wagner's opera "Valkyrie." While training an elephant named Daisy to ride a flying horse through a wall of flames while trumpeting the Wagner score, the tragic accident occurred. Daisy was thrown by the frightened horse (a hefty, oversized breed used for elephant work and developed with the able assistance of the Legendary Mr. Christopherson's special growth hormones) and came tumbling down on young Jonathan.

It is a real tribute to this young architect that he continues to press forward with his elephantine dreams. The marvelous house he has built, with its out‑of‑plumb walls, dramatically shows the effects of the many performances delivered by his cast of 50 dancing elephants (and horses) coming in for Wagnerian landings.
 

Jonathan K.

It's really no surprise, owing to the close proximity of the Puget Sound, that one of the gifted Creative Expressions students would come up with a water oriented project.

Here we refer to the excellent home designed and con­structed by young Jonathan, the Jonathan Trout House. As one can see, this clever young fellow, having decided on producing a home for himself and his large school of pet trout, cleverly constructed a lovely wave effect, which is clearly visible from the outside. This wavy theme is car­ried on through to all of the interior rooms of the house and certainly must be responsible for calming his little fishy friends down and making them feel right at home.

Yet, as it is with many well thought out plans, one may dis­cover to their embarrassment that they have overlooked a few minor potential problems. In this case, young Jonathan neglected to take into account that providing for his trout, being under water as fish are prone to be, made the house a slightly hostile environment for himself. After nearly drowning a couple of times while sitting in his favorite chair, his appreciative fish friends all around him, mouthing their gratitude for the wonderful new home, this highly intelligent young man was made to realize that he should don a diving suit with its own portable supply of air. It was either that or try to make special, small water‑filled pressure suits for the trout, which would lead to their being rendered virtually immobile, forced to flop about awk­wardly to get from one location to another.

But now, wearing his own pressure suit, young Jonathan is able to spend many a pleasant hour with his little watery friends, watching them work their way through the wavy rooms he built for them.
 

La'Jure K.

The La'Jure House turns out to be another dwelling that was inspired by an offhand remark by the Legendary Mr. Christopherson one day. Young La'Jure was concentrat­ing heavily on making a spitwad that would buzz as it went through the air and then really sting when it hit. The great teacher, ducking as a wad went buzzing by, made the tell­ing comment, "Well, don't you look busy as a bee?"

That was all it took to give the young La'Jure his idea for a house: it would be a large bee hive wherein he could do some serious research on these buzzy little guys.

The construction of the house's interior took some careful planning. It was necessary to provide adequate separation between the bee and human portions of the place in order to prevent unfortunate accidents. For example, early on, young La'Jure had invited various top ranking officials of the famous BBB's (Beautiful Bee Bunch), a leading research group, to visit and be part of some real bee experiments. Unfortunately, one lady scientist's perfume proved to be unpopular with the bees, forcing Honey House (as it was called by then) to be evacuated, not to mention forcing several BBB members, suffering from some pretty stinging criticism, into another line of work.

On the up side, the Honey House provides urban Parkland with a nonstop honey supply, and longtime residents claim that the flowers in the area have been stimulated into an amazing orgy of reproduction.
 

Lora M.

There was never a doubt in young Lora's mind about her project. It would be a place wherein her favorite pets could spend some quality time. She drew up plans for a house that would accommodate herself and her three, two‑ton hogs, May‑Bell, June‑Bell, and Cow‑Bell.

She had decided that, to help her porkish friends trim down their weight a bit, she would install a large, banked race track. This proved to be extremely popular with her pets. In fact, in no time at all, many Parkland residents were shunning the longer drive to the racetrack at Emerald Downs, and instead were lining up for the privilege of entering the Parkland Pig Palace and watching the hefty pig trio thun­der around the in‑house track in playful competition.

Some claimed that the real attraction was not so much the thrill of the race itself, as when galloping June‑Bell would shoulder trotting May‑Bell aside and take the lead, but rather the potential for dramatic accidents. One such spectacular crack‑up occurred when a struggling Cow‑Bell happened to lose her footing and came crashing into the specta­tors' bleachers. The sporty hog picked herself up and went right on with the race. The fifty‑two squashed spectators were hustled off to the hospital. In another such incident, May‑Bell hit a grease­spot on the track and ended up in a tail spin which carried her through one wall of the house and all the way down to the Parkland golf course, where she made a massive hole‑in‑one on the first green.

Understandably, the Parkland Pig Palace has earned it’s place of honor in the hearts and minds of porcine lovers the world over.
 

Nathaniel B.

Following right along with the idea suggested by the Cow House described elsewhere in this publication, young Nate decided to build his dog a house of his own. One might assume at first glance that the rather stylish but simple home shown here would be somewhat too large for a dog. But that assumption is set aside immediately when one gets a look at the young architect's dog, named "Hippo‑Tim."

Over a period of months, young Nate had been including a special group of growth hormones in his dog's (formerly known as "Tiny Tim") diet. These specially designed hormones were the creation of the Legendary Mr. Christopherson who tends to dabble with great success in all sorts of things. Tiny Tim began growing in spurts, first becoming just "Tim," and then "Big Tim," and then "Really Big Tim," and finally "Hippo-Tim.”

Owing to the excessive size of his pet, young Nate has built a house that features very large rooms with extremely sturdy floors.  Even the stairs leading up to the doggie exercise room are reinforced to withstand the bulky 50-ton weight of this growing pet.  (As it happens, the exercise room was one of the suggestions made by the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, who had just discovered that his hormone treatment tended to increase the dog’s size by adding mostly fat. As a result, Hippo-Tim, starting out as a 50-pound Labrador, has ballooned up to become a multi-ton canine made up of roll after roll, layer after layer, of fat.)

Extra reinforcement was added to the walls as well when it was discovered that Hippo-Tim would sometimes miss his footing while climbing stairs, tripping over folds of fat as it were, and come bouncing mightily down the steps, shaking the entire Parkland area, causing a good deal of frowning and finger-shaking.

It is now rumored, by the way, that the Legendary Teacher has decided to work on a reducing diet for dogs that exceed Washington State’s maximum home-dwelling doggie-weight-load of 3-tons, an eagerly awaited and greatly needed development, at least with respect to the greater Parkland area.
 

Ryan B.

According to young Ryan's own words here, what he was after was the creation of a kind of farm house, since he had always had a fancy for cows. Even when he was a little baby, he had begged his parents for a cow, but alas, they were strangely reluctant to let the boy have the pet of his dreams.

Thus, when the opportunity arose by means of the project offered through the wonderful Creative Expressions class, young Ryan jumped at it. Though the Legendary Mr. Christopherson did contribute a few basic ideas here and there, we must stress that the majority of the house's impressive characteristics are the result of young Ryan's own ingenuity.

Signs of this boy's architectural genius range from the extra wide wrap-around porch (suitable for cow watching, something young Ryan just can't get enough of, to hear him tell it); to the large cow barns cleverly located in the basement, which has been extended downward to include thirty‑three sublevels, allowing for his extensive herd of 25,777.6 cows (some might say he has allowed himself to overindulge in his love of cows, but after all, cows do need someone who will stick up for them and tell the world of their positive bovine characteristics); to the large dining room where the young architect entertains friends and cow lovers from around the world (by the way, positively no beef is served since many cows do number among the invited guests, and young Ryan rightly assumes that the serving of beef to them would place them in the embarrassing position of possibly having to eat relatives and friends); to the kitchen with its compliment of 233 cooks who are kept busy round the clock serving up hay and clover for the hungry herd below.

One can only imagine the tremendous moo of gratitude that welcomed this exceptional architect as he escorted his cow friends into their new home for the first time!
 

Shaun L.

Ideas can come from the strangest places sometimes. The idea for the Shaun House came as this young genius spent two hundred fifty‑three hours trying to get out of the tricky Mouse House, built by the clever Ms. Casey F..

It seems, as young Shaun tells it, that while blundering from room to room, seeking the way to the kitchen with its reward of Norwegian cheese, he found his mind was getting tied into knots. (It may be pointed out here that the mazes in the Mouse House are indeed difficult. Even the incredible intelligence of the Legendary Mr. Christopherson failed him on that one occasion, causing the Legendary Person to be trapped in the house for several days. We might add, however, that he did finally get his chunk of Norske cheese, making the whole ordeal worthwhile.)

Well, anyway, young Shaun left the mouse mazes with a terrific idea for his own house. He decided to couple his newly found appreciation for mazes with his growing interest in worms. The result is the amazing Annelid Abode, with its miles and miles of tiny halls and corridors, designed to completely confuse even the most intelligent of worms.

But, you see, the really incredible aspect of the design, and a sure fire sign of this young man's super abilities to put ideas into reality, is the fact that when your typical worm has spent a major part of a day, crawling along the dirt covered floors, it can become so confused that it will actually tie itself into a knot! In fact, these knotted worms have become so popular that people will travel all the way from downtown Parkland to purchase one, assuring young Shaun of a secure financial future selling knotty worms.
 

William C.

Young William based his project on a concept that came to him while playing a computer game. He had become deeply involved in the game "Animal Wars," wherein one could select any two types of animals and pit them against each other. (The game had actually been designed by the Legendary Mr. Christopherson who still gets royalties from it. Of course, the game has a limited audience and only sells a few copies a year. The small number of sales is nicely compensated for, however, owing to the selling price of $50,000 per copy.)

Young William had been having a wonderful time pitting un­usual animal groups against each other: 20 moose against 500 ground hogs (the moose won by means of some fancy footwork); 300 bats against 300 sparrows (since the battle was staged at mid‑morning, the bats lost, having a seeing handicap, coupled with the sonar fowling chirping of the sparrows); an alligator against a crocodile (this proved to be a draw since one was male and the other female and both were nearsighted); 15 sharks against 1,000,000 snapping turtles (the turtles easily walked away with the win, and shark‑tooth necklaces for souvenirs).

Thus, when young William came to design his house, he built into it an ability to conduct a real life animal war that had been on his mind for some time (one of the very few combinations that the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, an expert on confusing animals, had left out of the computer game.)

The first step was to get a large supply of the first animal---termites. Young William allowed these wood friendly creatures to take over one wing of the William’s House (see photo). After a suitable time had been allowed during which the termites had firmly established themselves, the second animals were introduced, six aardvarks. The anteaters took the lead initially with their lightning tongues flashing, but the termites ultimately won by collapsing the whole house down on the unsuspecting aardvarks, ending their tongue lashings for good.

This gifted architect is presently working on a second home for the surviving termites, believing that they deserve to be rewarded for their victorious struggle.
 

William P.

Here we have your basic one-pet-person. Young Will­iam had been presented with his little pet hippo, Betsy, when he was just five years old. The two grew up together, sharing the usual boy/hippo experiences. His parents watched fondly as their young son romped about the yard with Betsy. When William went off to kindergarten, a lonely Betsy would stand by the bus stop, faithfully awaiting the return of her master.

William's parents also had the two pals attend a hippo obedi­ence school where Betsy learned to "sit," "speak," and "roll over." (As Betsy grew, the roll over trick had to be aban­doned, except for outside occasions where no one was in dan­ger of being flattened.)

Young William's parents also arranged for Betsy to com­plete a course for attack hippos, making her the ideal com­panion for those sometimes dangerous nighttime strolls along the streets of downtown Parkland. This training paid off one evening when young William, at the suggestion of his Brilliant Teacher, the Legendary Mr. Christopherson, took Betsy for a swim in Spannaway Lake. At this time in her growth cycle, little Betsy had worked herself up to a weight of twenty‑five tons and upon entering the water caused the whole lake level to rise five feet. Angry residents of the area approached the two, shaking their fists at them and threatening them with bodily harm if they didn't leave immediately. With Betsy's firm support and combat training, William and his pet were able to hold their position at the lake. Whenever anyone tried to get to them, Betsy would lower her massive head and charge thunderously at them, opening her huge mouth and bellowing. This impasse was finally resolved with an agreement that granted William and Betsy full lake access during week-end low crowd times. (Special note: area residents also rushed to purchase updated flood insurance before local insurance agencies caught on to the new order of things.)

The faithful friendship between boy and hippo has now led to the construction of the sturdy Happy Hippo House, with plenty of room for the two to romp and wrestle together playfully with a minimum of damage to the home and surrounding neighborhood.