Wherever this world may lead, I drag a packed wagon of worry behind me.

Nothing new.

But, may I ask the emaciated cash cow to, please, shut up?

I am well aware, dear bovine, of my failings in your care. Your pokey ribs have rubbed me raw for years and years.

However, the desperate mooing does not help. It annoys the neighbors and makes this crazy, little girl cry.

So, please, hush, sweet heifer… or step out of my wagon.

Until tomorrow…


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