'Well, hello there. It's so nice of you to stop by. We here at mama milton are working hard to produce posts and prose and...'
You're not really going to go along with her little speech, are you? She delivered us from her mother's toy chest - a relic from childhood? that's a nice how do you do - and then proceeded to stuff us in a basket all summer. Blog fodder? She's lazy.
She's been busy is all. We've been safe there, with her stationary. Protected from the kids.
Is that what she tells you? Look who's nipping your arse, right now. She doesn't even have our names straight. She was referring to us as Monkee #1, and Monkee #2 this morning, when she was directing her puppeteer*.
And then Monkee #1 and Monkee #2 (also known as the naughty Monkee) began swinging and a Monkee melee ensued until they were escorted back to basket storage, next to my fancy author stationary and Christmas list, spared from our storage unit last July.
Stay tuned for more Monkee adventures while I go ape, writing a book this month.
(I say that frequently and aloud, so it sinks in. And then I pass out.)
*The Milton Puppeteers are well compensated under the Halloween Candy Act of 2008, a provision they fought for when they formed a union, just today.