“Mine is a sad case, Lady,” said the solemn visaged inmate of the asylum
to the visitor.
“My parents fed me Gripe nuts; made me sleep up in the garret among the
rats, in a ‘buggy’ bed and beneath a crazy quilt. My only pet was a
squirrel, and my only toys, the wheels from a cuckoo clock.”
And striking a Napoleonic attitude, he strode out in search of Josephine.
* * * * *
Oh, Doc Crafts!
Some people are so dry that talking to them is like chewing a blotter.
* * * * *