A TALE OF WOOL AND QUILLS

Mr Turtle, I can't sleep.

Sorry , but you have to.

But I am not sleepy !

Lay down in your bed and count the sheep !

Come on, Mister Turtle ! There are no sheep in this house !

You silly ! Hee hee !

Not REAL ones, sheep in your head !

In... in my HEAD ?! EEEE ! But how did they get in ?!

Forget it. I'm gonna tell you a story.

Are you comfy ?

Yup !

I'm going to tell you tale, Which is odd yet authentic, Of a very unusual child,

They called him « The Porcupine Kid ».

They say to whoever would hear That this strange fellow was born From the union of a sweet florist woman And a talented fashion designer.

Although frightened at first By the child's prickly quills, They gave him love and comfort (while wearing fleece-lined gloves).

They named their son Peter, A very nice name I must say, And put him in public school The year he turned ten.

But though his marks where A-rated, Making him first of his classroom,

He felt lonely and neglected When the trees started to bloom.