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
Tug on my Antler
Caribou’s head snapped up. Looking across the herd he saw a familiar face staring back at him. “You smell it too?”
Choked Up
“E-s-p-o-s-a-l.” Pangolin finished. “Is that it? Did I get it right? Did I win? Did I?”
Poor Planning
After setting up his umbrella and placing his gear within easy reach, St. Bernard sat back in his beach chair and almost just started to relax when, “Am I forgetting something? I feel like I’m forgetting something.”
Rationales
Turkey Vulture knocked back the bourbon left in the glass then picked up the bottle. “You my friend, give me purpose. A very grim, dark purpose. Well I, I suppose I should thank you.”
Circus Act
“You want me to do what? With this?” Chicken looked at the orange again. “Are you kidding? An egg, sure. I can handle that. But this? Cluck you, buddy.”
A drink for my friends!
“Come, my friends, fill your glasses,” implored Gnu. “I feel a toast upon me, the buttered kind with plenty of rum. Hot toddy ta!”
Sweet, sweet Youth
Swan laughed a little bitterly, “My growing up? My adolescence? You want to know what it was like being just a duckling? Oh, you have no idea what you’re asking.”
