Peter, Tinkerbell and I wrote an elegy of a musical mosquito. We called it “Tada! And SPLAT”. Sold over a million copies. But the book didn’t speak favourably of mosquitoes. So a swarm of them ganged up and bit us. Peter got old, Tinkerbell faded away and I got dengue. Not a happy story this.
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A drowsy Sunday afternoon: Tinkerbell, Peter and I were conducting very complicated brain surgery on Snoopy in the backyard. But we weren’t particularly patient and went in a while later. We were munching on cookies. Snoopy didn’t fancy being left out. So, in he came, needles galore sticking out of his brain and joined us.
