This article is part of the The Bradford Exchange series.
I see you looking at my little lab truck. That's one of my favorites. It was a truly amazing find when you think about it. It reminds me of the dog truck that used to drive up and down the street. It had the same paintings on the side even, except the dog used to drive it. He would always honk his horn and let out a friendly bark, and I would wave back. I never knew the story about how he got his license or how he paid for the truck, but I was just happy to see him.
He drove by every day until that darn neighbor boy caught him. He stuffed firecrackers inside frogs, dipped them in tar, and stuck them on the poor pooch. Then he lit the fuse and threw him from a helicopter he stole from an army base. It was an awful thing. Truly awful.
Ah, I picked up that sweet little thing because it reminded me of my last kitten, Jessica (I named her after Jessica from Murder, She Wrote). I used to put little clothes on her, and she loved it. In fact, she even insisted on it! What a kitten she was!
My sweet angel. She would be with me even now if not for the terrorists. She was on the plane that crashed into the Pentagon, you see. I wonder if that neighbor boy was one of the hijackers? I just don't know about people anymore. But I feel her presence as sure as day, and that brings me comfort. She was as much paw as she was heart.
What's that? You have to go? Oh, I'm sorry to see you leave so soon. Please, take some cookies with you. No, really, it's no trouble. I always bake more than I can eat. Oh, well, if you change your mind stop by and pick them up. I've got some more collectibles in the attic I'm sure you'd love to see!
And you thought women had one-dimensional script intros that treated them like sex objects. Ewoks have it even worse.
No one seems to like the new Doom box art. But it's still the same old Doom Guy under that space marine helmet. Right?
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