Hank was exceptionally proud of his trophy. He placed it on a gleaming pedestal right next to his college diploma, his other greatest accomplishment. He wasn't sure which he was more proud of. He chuckled to himself as he looked at the outdated certificate on the wall as compared to his gleaming, spit shined trophy. Little had he know when he entered college on a Chess scholarship that it would take him almost 50 years to reach his goal of winning 1st place in the Chess World Cup. But every match, every skipped meal, every postponed date with a pretty woman, every ignored doctors visit, every missed MASH episode, every hour - every second even - of practice had paid off! He could die happy! He had won! No matter the cost it had taken. He had completed his life goal. Now he wondered if any of those pretty women would still be interested in a date. He was SURE they would be impressed with how well his trophy matched the shag carpet and wainscoting!
 George had been told his entire life of 8 years by his mother that he needed to "reach for the stars" and he could do anything he wanted to do in life...but he wasn't quite sure what that meant.  Was he suppose to go to space and become an astronaut? Should he try to become like the "stars" he saw on television? Was he somehow suppose to become a star like the ones up in the night sky? Did it have something to do with Star Wars? These all seemed like rather unattainable goals that he didn't much care for.  But when he really thought about the things he DID want to reach for, he got all excited and bubbly inside. He just couldn't wait until the day he was old enough to drive his own car all the way up to Yellowstone and become a park ranger! Bears, geysers, fish, peeing outside, and sleeping under the stars! Now THOSE were things he wanted to reach for! And he guessed for now the paper stars hanging from his ceiling and the sleeping bag in his bed would have to be close enough. If what his mom said was true, and he really COULD do anything he wanted if he reached high enough, then boy would he never stop reaching until the stars above his head were real!
 Daisy (or was it Squishy-Butt, Little Meow Meow, or Fuzzy Babe-she never could tell which was her true given name) was a simple cat. All she really wanted out of life was to be played with 10% of the time, cuddled for 10% and left alone for the other 80%. Was that so much to ask for? And yet the incessant petting, and picking up, and bugging continued. She had tried to escape and make a new home for herself under the couch with her friends the dust bunnies, but then 2 seconds later it was time to eat and poop again and a lady doesn’t do those things under the couch!   She tried stealth mode, and was sure she had creeped by the humans without being spotted, until a hand came out of nowhere and scooped her up with a shriek of “Oh my cutest little kitty meow meow fluffy butt crazy kitty cat!! I love you so MUCH!!” Then the belly scratches. The dreaded belly scratches. How would she ever survive another day of this??? ...Well some of those head scratches did feel pretty good....I mean, a little massaging never hurt a cat right?....She could demand independence another day? Right?...*Ppppppuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrr*
 Cornelia adored trimming the tree every Christmas. It put a spark in her eye and skip in her hooves to see it all adorned with popcorn strings and little glass balls. She donned her favorite christmas turtleneck (size XXXXXX Long), turned on Grandma Got Run Over By a Stampede and began to decorate! Seeing the tree begin to take life was worth every crick in her neck she knew she was going to feel in the morning. The rush of joy as she bent back and forth and back and forth made her head spin! (Or was that just the result of being a couple yards taller then her tree and wearing a wool sweater in 90 degrees weather?) No matter! It was Christmas! Come pain, come ailment nothing would stop her from having the most fabulous tree in the Sahara!
prev / next