Sunday, April 13, 2014

The Scandal of the Homeless Pets

          On a chilly almost-summer's eve, when it was too late to go home, and fries had re-energized their souls and their brain circuits, Wal-Mart held the keys, the secrets to their entertainment. Standing perplexed in the craft aisle, they alighted upon the yarn and a thought dropped into their heads. Clink! Wrapping a front porch in yarn as a prank? No, no too risky. Another idea began to form - faint at first, but becoming beautiful, edges defined, refined. A ball of yarn could be a homeless pet, given eyes and a proper companion. These two could develop into resigning vagabonds to be deserted, left on a cold porch, a hair past midnight.
         
          They made their purchases, assembled the creatures' pitiful appearances en route to the scene of future abandonment, present pranking, and, undoubtedly, an abundance of giggles. Slipping off their shoes after carefully parking a block away, they scampered across cold pavement, making their way slowly, silently, to the duplex that was illumined by a single, small, suspended, sad light.       
 
          The situation was critical when giggles erupted and almost met the breaking point. To their chagrin, they realized only one was physically capable of continuing on this dark quest.

          "Are you serious, Jenny?" Katy demanded in a scratchy whisper.

          But Jenny could not respond. She only squeaked and gesticulated. So Katy, with cautious and cat-like maneuvers approached, paused, contemplated, then with decided composure, placed the two wayfarers on the darkened step. She scampered off. The two girls raced to the car with benumbed feet and muffled voices.      
 
          They left with the expectation that the fingers of dawn would soon caress the orphans. For with the sun, the duplex-dwellers would find this: A heap of furry and fraying gray yarn, its large and wiggly eyes secured to its hairball-like frame with old pre-chewed gun, and next to it, across from a note that read "Good home needed" in scraggly boyish scrawl, its companion - a curled, chipper, bug-eyed porcelain snail.
         
          What would become of these two orphans when discovered? We may never know.

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