The Story Begins

Thanks for joining me as we relive a golden era of storytelling from the early years of the Atomic Age.

I never was any good at this. — Ponyard Kipling


a beaver Photo by Abigail Lynn on Unsplash

“Thank you.” Eurasian Beaver took the paid for ticket and stepped out onto the train platform. He pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat. “So, which will it be today? On time? Late? Inevitable?”


“Well, now that we’ve all played the vaccination card,” Mountain Hare declared, “it’s time to decide where we go on vacation. Mark your choices everyone in blue or black ink, of course.”

Far, far away…

“I must not confess of having no conscience, at all,” Natterer’s Bat fed a blank page into the typewriter to begin her memoir, “or of being unbounded. However, it has slipped its moorings for ports unknown on occasion.”

Actually Love

A Hooded Seal Photo by Angelina Litvin on Unsplash

“I’m not love’em-and-leave’em kind of guy, really.” Hooded Seal admitted. “I know you’re thinking but, a girl in every port? Sure, but I always go back eventually.”

Spare Dime?

“So let me get this straight.” Red-necked Wallaby posed to the panhandler in the water. “You’re asking for not just my spare change but an exact amount of change? Specifically?”