The shoe. At first, I was horrified, I wanted to hide it. I wanted to protect little Eva, who's been wrestling with nightmares recently. But of course, it's not a horror story, we're at a zoo, in America, a haven for children.
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But it's a shoe. A small child's shoe, one Eva herself might fit and it's abandoned two feet outside an alligator's mouth. A smiling, contented, look-who-just-swallowed-the-canary mouth.
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And it's only one shoe. No mate. No owner. No red-headed, freckle faced, mischievous boy attached.
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But it's a croc. A croc . . . in a faceoff with a gator.
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The gator smiles, but the croc stands.
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It's not a horror story, it's a play on words.
A pun.
3 comments:
That's Uncle Bob "Titus" and Uncle Doug in the pic----am assuming you wondered who the men were?
Croc's-------DON'T like 'em.
Thanks, anonymous. How do you know so much, are you stalking us?
Sorry Val I thought I put my name in the block.
Mom
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