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

Youthful Spirit

Ringed Seal stayed on the sidewalk. “I don’t know, fellas. I’m not really into the whole club scene, you know?”

Egyptian Mongoose insisted on keeping an uneven, arrhythmic pace across the bridge so not to create a destructive resonance. Not a walk.

Alpine Chipmunk expressed amazement, “If I was any more taken aback, I’d be in front of myself.”

“Transit of Venus?” Cactus Mouse scoffed. “Last time I did that I ended up in traction for a month.”

Wood Stork held out the clipboard. “Look, company policy. Leave no door ajar, leave no jar what’s open. Sign here.”

“I don’t need her to open pickle jars necessarily,” Red Wolf spoke of his mate. “But I do need her to open the olive jar.”

North African Hedgehog trundled across the sand by way of the trenches. “If it’s water they want, they’ll have to come to me to get it.”