Frog and I are trying to forget that we've bumped into the pile of Chatterbooks boxes in the corner.
"Aren't they all too old to go on the shelves?" I ask.
"It's not the books themselves, just the goodies. I can't remember what's in them: probably flash reading cards featuring Titch and Quackers," replies Frog.
"Not many, are there?"
"These are just the samples. I live in fear of some Herbert ordering a batch of them and not telling me about it until they arrive in the doorway."
"Shouldn't we cover them up?"
"I'll find a blanket."
1 comment:
I think this disturbingly worded post is really a metaphor for tp.
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