I remain on good terms with Helen McDowell. I performed at the gala saluting her owl. I arrived on the back of a robotic dragon. Helen rolled by in her little red wagon. When the concert concluded we all shared a snack of mincemeat and tar paste dipped in shellac.
Nimble Missst’s story will be published soon. This will be the cover. Don’t get into a battle of wits with her. She has a snapjaw mind, you know.
The fastest fly in the land loved to perch on any hand. To show her speed at beating slaps she sat on noses during naps. She also liked to hang around a barbecue or picnic ground. But woe, alas, she grew too bold. She sailed from her cottage while suffering from a cold. She landed […]
Here is Zerna Sharp. She did not play the harp. Instead, she filled my brain with tales of Dick and Jane, Mother and Father and Puff, Spot and Sally. Stop! Enough!
Those logs there are bouncy. Isn’t that daft? It’s called then, of course, the Trampoline Raft. Its owners aren’t bouncing. They’re swimming, not pouncing. Who are they? Why, twins! Listen! They laughed!
