Little Billy Johnson needed a pair of new shoes. Billy often needed them because his feet would sweat like a waterfall and not just in the summertime, although it WAS worse then. Billy’s Mom always supplied him with a large shaker topped bottle of talcum powder to absorb the wetness and hopefully prevent unpleasant orders emitting from those extremities of Billy’s anatomy.
Since he lived in a small town, Mr. Ned’s Shoe Store and Emporium was within walking distance of Billy’s home. Well, actually EVERYTHING was within walking distance in Corner’s Bluff.
So after a good shower and after slipping on clean white socks Billy talcum powdered the interior of his old pitiful looking shoes. A light dusting just wouldn’t do for these worn out Weejuns since Mr. Ned’s nose was going to be closer than any nose should be to Billy’s “Straight into the trash!” shoes. Billy removed the shaker top and poured a generous amount of neutralizing talc into each shoe. “That outta do it!”…Billy thought, after more than half of the container was poured rather equally into the left then the right shoe.
Billy put on his gray T shirt and his new black jeans and then stepped into his shoes for the last time. As Billy stepped into each of them, a small burst of powder pouffed up the outsides of each shoe and onto the cuff of his jeans leaving a ghostly white tracing that looked like a Strato-cumulus cloud, which Billy was studying about in fifth grade.
“COOL!” thought Billy and he left the house headed for the shoe store.
Billy wore shoes out so often that his parents had an account at Mr. Ned’s and as Billy walked down Main Street onlookers were pointing at him and chuckling to each other. When Billy looked down at his shoes he saw that the bottom of his pants were almost completely white and each step generated another cumulus display spurting from the sides of each shoe.
By the time he arrived at his destination a crowd had formed to watch his volcanic shoe displays and Billy quickly slipped into the sanctity of the shoe store!
“Ah…Hi there…Billy…” Mr. Ned tried his best not to laugh at Billy’s white and black jeans as Billy puffed his way to a seat.
“A new pair of Weejuns?” Mr. Ned was confirming the obvious rather than actually asking a question.
“Yes Sir…Cordovan!”
Mr. Ned removed the right shoe first and a puff of talc rose into the air, the proprietor turning his head away from the white storm.
Then as Mr. Ned held the shoe as far from his nose as his arm would reach, using only the very tips of his fingers, a cascade of worn talc poured out and formed a pointed pile on the carpeted floor.
The Emporium owner repeated the same procedure with the left shoe. Looking at the two equal piles of talc that had formed on the floor in front of Billy Mr. Ned said…”I’ll get to those later.” Then holding both shoes as delicately as possible Mr. Ned carried them to the wastebasket and dropped them straight down and in!
After fitting Billy with a brand new pair of Cordovan Weejuns Mr. Ned said “OK Billy…I think that does it!”
“Thanks Sir …and could you add one more thing to the bill?”
“What’s that Billy?”
“A new bottle of talc…we’re out!”

There once was a turtle named Myrtle
Who thought that she needed a girdle
One look in the mirror she found
That her body shape was quite round
Getting thin would pose quite a hurdle
She tried nearly every way to lose girth
But slimming ideas…there was a dearth
She thought maybe a skirt’ll
Hide some of Myrtle
But that was more trouble than worth
Then one morning at the edge of the pond
She met Tom Turtle of whom she was fond
“Myrtle you look so slim!”
Were the words said by him
Tom instantly for her was James Bond!

In a world where queens pretended to be peasants, and peasants pretended to be Queens, it is not surprising that little Marie Rodgers wanted to be famous.

“What do you want to be famous for Marie?” asked Grandad Trent.”

“That is a good question Papa. I guess I should decide what I do NOT want to be first, huh?”
“Ha! You are wise beyond your ten years Marie.”

“Ten and a HALF actually. Months matter when you are ten!”

“Oh my Dear, believe me, they matter just as much when you have eighty years of them too.”

“Well then I guess that we agree that ALL years matter huh Papa?”

“Oh they do. But I’d say that the first thing that you must do to get ready to be famous, is to make sure that you have a wonderful autograph.”

“Do you have a wonderful autograph Papa?”

“Since I am NOT famous, I don’t need one.”
“I want to be ready, so I’m going to start practicing. How about if I always write “Thank You” first and then a fancy M and a fancy T further on?”

“Well I think that would be great. After all, it is people that make you famous, and you want them to stay fans.” Marie was quiet for a while. Papa Trent had seen her do that many times when she was thinking, so he just smiled and waited.

Finally, she looked at her Grandad and said “I was thinking.”
“I have seen you think before.”
“Ha! You’re funny! You can’t really see people think…can you?”

“Not everybody…just you.”

“Suppose I get really famous and everywhere that I go, even to India, people line up for my autograph, and I sign some. Then others run over just because somebody tells them that I’m famous, and they all want my autograph too…because everybody else has one! I could be there for hours, lots of people live in India you know, and by the time I finish signing, my hand hurts really bad and it’s nighttime and I didn’t even get to see India!”

“Well, that COULD happen if you get famous enough Marie.”

Marie went into her thinking mode again, and Papa just smiled and waited.

Finally…Marie put her arm through her Papa’s and said, “Let’s just go for a nice long walk together for the rest of the afternoon while we have the chance, because we won’t be able to, after I get famous!”

The cabin door opened and when I saw the bright warm sunshine glinting off of that shiny wing I flew straight out of there as fast as I could!
I had been trapped in that airplane for hours. Shouldn’t have followed that kid onto that plane in the first place, but that cheese steak sandwich smelled SO GOOD! (Never did get to land on it!)
But then, even though I was warm, I was hungry and I had no idea where I was or where to go.
Just then another fly buzzed by and I followed him until he lit on a hamburger wrapper.
“Hey ah, where am I buddy?”
“Huh…what kinda accent y’all got there anyhow?”
“Oh…well, just got off of the flight from Philly.”
“Well, there’s another one going back in an hour try to get on that one.” The new fly obviously did NOT want to be friends. But I continued: “I don’t mean to be mean, but I just got off of the flight from Philly and I can’t understand a single word they are buzzin’ here in Dallas.”
So I went into the terminal and buzzed around looking for something to eat while I waited for my next flight and I just happened onto a discarded brisket sandwich. Well, I though the Philly cheese steak was good but that brisket…WOW!
To make a long story short, I made my home in Dallas and live behind Pete’s Brisket Palace with a mess of friends and some cousins that just flew in from San Antonio.
Gotta go. Here comes young Jimmy with the trash! Yum!

“OK all of you…pay attention. No…no…no, you Dachshunds and Corgis and Chihuahuwas get up in the front row. I’m an AKC registered English Bulldog. And the first of you mutts that makes a crack about my accent is gonna REGRET IT! Now, you’re gonna get your barking orders that you will keep and obey forever.”

“Hey! You two Great Danes back there…KNOCK it off!”

“There are four types of barking that will be assigned today: The “Ruff” the “Yap” and the “Bow Wow,” and of course there is the most common, the just plain “Bark” which is not only onomatopoeia, but also a noun, but you’ll get that lesson later on in the camp when we discuss words and commands that you can ignore.”

Now you MUST only adhere to your assigned type or if you are caught using any other type, you will be severly punished by the removal of your bark capabilities. If you don’t believe me, just ask ANY Basenji!

“OK This entire front row is assigned the “Yap! Let’s hear it when I give the signal….WHAT? You got a question?”

The Corgi timidly asked “Are there any restrictions on loudness or repitition?”

“Hmmm. That is actually a good question for once! No! Loud and long and strong!”

“OK….GO!”

There was the loudest longest and strongest yapping of any prior Boot class!

“You blokes are gonna bring me a lot of glory out there! OK you second row, you medium dogs You get the “Ruff” which is quite often doubled to “Ruff Ruff!” Let’s hear it!

A cacophony of RUFFS rang through the barricks rafters.

“Now third row, you large dogs you get a deep “Bow Wow”…let’s hear it!’

The Bulldog Sargent had to cover his ears.

“That was wonderful! And the rest of you mongrels just get to “Bark”…GO!”

There was a lot of ill timed and mixed good and bad Barks which left the Bulldog shaking his head.

“Oh that was terrible, but I didm’t expect much anyhow. OK! I want you all to go out to the fence that runs along the camp’s perimeter next to the housing development and practice until you are hoarse.”

“DISSSSSSMISSSSED!”

“Hey Drew…hurry up….you’re late this morning.” A muffled but distinctly gruff voice emanated from the blank page on cartoonist Drew Daniels drawing board.
Drew looked around but there wasn’t anyone else in his studio and indeed it was earlier than he usually started to draw his syndicated daily cartoon column of a dachshund that always seemed to be too short too long and in too much trouble!
Drew took a sip of his morning coffee and as he put the very first line down on the white paper with his black inked pen, the line began to move all on its own. Drew was startled! This had NEVER happened before…and how could it? It was IMPOSSIBLE!!! Wasn’t it?
“Listen Mister Smarty Pants artist…I want bigger frames…or at least wider ones…I’m too cramped in these skimpy ones you do!”
“Ah…D…Doodley?”
“Yeah who else…you really have limited talent you know. I always look the same, act the same…do the same stupid stuff…and I’m gettin’ sick of it!”
The line had magically and mysteriously continued to draw itself until the Doodley character was way too large and pushing his two dimensional snout right up off the paper and yelling at Drew even without the customary word “balloon”!
“I…ah…..I don’t have to listen to you….I can rip the page right off of the board and crumple it up and throw it into the trash….or….even BURN IT!!!” said Drew defiantly.
“Ah….not so hasty Drew….I…..was perhaps a bit too coarse in our discussion of my rights as a famous, well….semi-famous cartoon!”
“That’s better. But you must know Doodley that there are strict sizes for frames and length of cartoons set by the papers….so I just can’t draw anything, any size, any way…I want to.”
“Well….I’ve seen double wide frames on even some of the most famous cartoon strips. I look around you know….at the competition as it were….I don’t just sit there dead still on the comics page. I have my pride.”
“Part of your…ah….charm to readers is that you ARE long and short and seem to be tightly fitted in the frame. That’s part of the fun Doodley.”
“Not for me Pal.” Doodley’s outline had gotten smaller as he calmed down and he was almost back to normal size.
“You are just going through a bit of a time when you aren’t happy right now but perhaps I can fix that. Tell you what….let me draw today’s strip with a new idea that I just had and I bet you’ll be fine with it. But you’ve gotta promise me….NO MORE jumping out of the pages….EVER AGAIN.”
“Well….we have been together for a long time ….so I promise….but ONLY if I’m happy about it!” Doodley said, now completely back to normal size.
Drew finished the strip and in the last frame was Doodley smiling bigger than he’d ever smiled….standing right next to his new very feminine cute companion with the yellow bow “Doodles”

When she was born Silvia noticed that the color of her scales was different from those of all of her brothers and sisters. Theirs were golden scales and made them look  like golden rays of sun swimming in the large pond which Silvia knew as “home”. And most of the other older fish inhabiting the pond were various shades of yellow and gold too. Silvia was more like the color of the rocks along the sides of her home and she wished that she were a beautiful golden shade too.

Also Silvia seemed to always get blamed for any trouble that, especially her brothers, would cause. When there was a commotion, except for feeding time of course, it seemed as though every creature in the pond stared at just her!
Some of the frogs were gray and the slugs were grayish but she was a “GOLD…fish” that somehow wasn’t very gold!

Silvia tried to swim in the bright sun rays that gleamed into the pond hoping to capture the sun’s color but it just made her look  more  silvery. Silvia did notice that the other fish were sometimes confused and weren’t sure which “Gold” fish was which and called them by the wrong names. But everyone knew who Silvia was, but that didn’t make Silvia feel special. And anyhow Silvia didn’t need to feel “special” she just wanted to fit in and be one of the school.

At school one day Silvia found out that she and all her family were CARP. And then she found out that not all carp are gold. In fact, Silvia was technically a Hypopthalmichthys Molitrix or Silver Carp. Well, fish, even carp, can’t write or spell so Silvia didn’t much care what she “technically ” was. Then the rest of her school started to tell her how beautiful that her silvery color was and that they wished that they were silver too. Even the Koi started telling her how they wished that they didn’t have “all these spots all over” and admired her flawless silvery complexion.

It was then that Silvia decided that it was better to appreciate who you are, and be the best “YOU” that you can be instead of wishing that you were somebody else. Quite often, that someone else, wished that they were you!

Once upon a time there was a clock named Saul
He was the type of clock that hung on the wall
Well he could see very well all that went on
But he’d have rather been a watch since the second he was born

He always knew what time it was and was never slow or fast
But he had dreams of a better life as the time passed and passed
He dearly loved the Spring because springing ahead was fun
But he dreaded the Fall ’cause turning back hurt his hands some

He wanted a chime or at least a bell
Or maybe a voice so the time he could tell
But it seemed no one cared that he couldn’t speak
When they looked for the time…they just took a peek

“What if I stopped running maybe then they would stare
And they’d take me down and fix me with care
But then what if they didn’t and just threw me out
You shouldn’t do things if you have any doubt”

“So I guess it’s time to be thankful and happy I’m here
And look forward to timekeeping …year after year
I’m so glad we talked and had this little chat
If I weren’t a wall clock…I’d wish to be that!”

Little Susie McBee
Had a severe allergy
When near a cat
She’d hold onto her hat
‘Cause her sneeze was as hard as could be

She tried to avoid cat’s always
But one day while visiting Miss Hayes
Hayes’ cat jumped right up
On Susie’s lap quite abrupt
Susie’s nose started twitching four ways

“I’ll try to do all I can
Not to sneeze like some giant man”
But Sue “ACHOO’d” without grace
 Her nose flew off of her face
And landed in cat’s litter pan!

“Oh my what hab I done?”
Dat’s my node and I only hab one”
She retrieved it real quick
And gave it quite a hard flick
Tried to replace it from where it’d gone!

She got her nose back on that’s true
But something still smelled like poo
‘Though she’d replaced it well
It really did smell
But that’s what a nose’s s’posed to do

It was 12:14 AM, later than usual when the Mitchells finally turned off all the downstairs lights and went up to bed. After a few moments…”Everyone….all clear…we may commence the evenings festivities!” The shrill, but very feminine voice of the porcelain “Majesty” pattern teapot announced from the dining room breakfront.
“Hey any of youse in dere seen Homer?” An earthenware pitcher called out from the kitchen.

“Naw but I did hear a huge clatter in the kitchen around noon!” responded a pepper grinder which had a marvelous view from the shelf above the stove.
“I didn’t shee noshing from where I wash all day.” said the cream pitcher with the chipped lip.

“Well he ain’t in the sink and he ain’t in the dishwasher….and…OH OH….what’s dem pieces I see in da trash….could dat be….” the earthenware pitcher moaned a soft moan and then went silent.
“Hey youse guys we’re ready to party!” the plastic knife yelled from the picnic basket!

“Well, I imagine we have to allow all utensils to participate in each evenings festivities.” The porcelain chocolate  pot sniffed.

And indeed most evenings all the Mitchell household’s plates, cups, serving pieces and flatware shook off their frozen daytime personalities and had a grand get together in the kitchen. The sterling silver still tended to hang around with the porcelain dinnerware and the earthenware were more often seen with the plastic picnicware but all gathered for a bit of exercise and fun after a full day of remaining totally still. The plates spun on their edges and the cups twirled and all danced in their own style and the dish did NOT run away with the spoon as was reported earlier!
But it was a hard and fast rule that two minutes before sunrise all participants had to return to their rightful places.

Well one fine morning in June a porcelain porridge bowl and a plastic spoon did not get back in time and had to freeze in their positions in the very center of the kitchen table!

Mr. And Mrs. Mitchell descended the stairs…”What’s this! This bowl and spoon weren’t here last night Martha…we’ve had burglars in the house!!!”
“Don’t be silly Reginald…burglars don’t eat porridge! It’s just the utensils having fun!”