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Who Cares? |
As a boy I liked to look out my window. I had an attic walk in I wired up with Christmas lights. I'd read Superman comics. On a balmy summer day, I spotted a squirl below. The squirl leaped for a gingko branch that my dad had pruned. The squirl dropped with paws extended. The squirl hit the ground with a small thud. He or she squirl was motionless. I mourned the squirl. Suddenly, the squirl sprang to his paws. He ran to my dad's stockade fence and scaled it. Then the squirl ran along the tips of the fence. He jumped on to a gingko branch and was out of my view. That's my squirl story. |