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

Epiphany

Horned toad finally realized, maybe I was just born that way.

Diligent and methodical, Prairie Dog stacked each bag of sand just so. “No good will come of this,” he sighed.

Nightingale lay down his accordion for the last time. “You know Papa, I think I’ll try singing instead.”

Ratel rushed from the latrines. “Sorry, sorry. Simple ceremony turned into a full blown religious experience. Ha ha.”

“Why should they call it zero hour?” Toddy Cat watched his second hand sweep round. “It always comes with a price, if you ask me.”

“Why could I not be made of sponge like you?” Humpback Dolphin asked the little cake.

“Pekingese!” Bluetick Coonhound spluttered at the TV. “I’ve got blood gorged fleas with more dog in them that thing.” And poured bourbon.