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
Live, Love, you know
“I can’t wait to try these on.” Siberian Flying Squirrel took her latest acquisition out of the box. “These heels are perfect!”
And Work It
“Oh look, here comes the high muckety-muck now.” Lesser Mole Rat whispered to the other litter bearers. “How much you wanna bet he wants a breeze in his hair today?”
Dawn Brightens
“So some of us really can’t go home again?” Box Turtle asked, and then realized, “But I always can. My home is where I’m at. Always.”
And all that, too.
“Yeah, I can play.” Schweizer Chicken told the jazz band. “And I can tell you, your jam ain’t jelly. Now let me show you how it’s done. Bunch of amateurs.”
Business of Family
“Well what the… where did you get that?” Common Genet pointed at the pole his son was holding. “And is that a bucket of live bait? Oh no. No son of mine is resorting to that. I’m heading the bait shack right now. You stay put mister.”
Now Hear This
“You see it’s simple. If it sounds like a train, it’s incoming. If it sounds like thunder, it’s outgoing.” Bobak Marmot cocked an ear to one side. “Oh dear, sounds like the eight-fifteen is on time. To your holes everyone!”
Fruits of Our Labor
“What did I do?” Iberian Lynx tumbled out of bed the morning after her daughter’s wedding. “Was it a rave? A mosh pit? Mosh pit, definitely, a mosh pit. Oh my back. What was I thinking?”
