Visits

Saturday, March 2, 2019

Home

Jeeze, I hate looking for a place to live. I'm so cozy in my little house, after four years here, as is the big fat brown dog and the little black dog. But then, it's not my little house, is it? In fact, I have less than a month to get the hell out. 

So far, the places I've looked at are pretty gloomy. Tiny, drab, not clean. Ugh. I begin to say to myself, "Okay, that's enough, I want to go home now." Like Tutor Turtle in the old cartoon, if anyone remembers that. Tutor would get an idea of something he wanted to do--like be an astronaut, or a caveman, or what have you--and his friend, Mr. Wizard, would say a magic spell and Tutor would be transported into his desire. It never went well, and Tutor Turtle soon found himself in trouble. "Help, Mr. Wizard!' he would say, "I want to get out of here. I don't want to be an astronaut anymore." At which point, Mr. Wizard would chant the spell, "Trizzle, Trazzle, Truzzle, Trum, time for this one to come home." 

I say to myself, I want to go home. 

But I have no home to go to. 

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