Tomorrow:
Casper and Walter give Mother Mitty the business ...
by compound complex 128 Replies latest watchtower scandals
Tomorrow:
Casper and Walter give Mother Mitty the business ...
G'night CoCo!!!
Thank you Baba and Beks!
CoCo
Young Casper [sic] was about to embark upon the adventure of a lifetime.
Well, scarcely a lifetime in the general sense of the term, given the mere wisp of a lad's brief ten years upon the face of a world chock-full of iniquity, mystery, intrigue, mayhem and run-of-the-mill nonsense. Even at his tender age, Casper [sic] would have none of this, that is, the world's sordid, spine-tingling offerings. It was all a mother could do (in this particular case, that of the easily frightened Casper [sic]), to persuade him that he might play with his shadow rather than flee it. The young boy seemed least apprehensive in this dubious regard at high noon, when no furtive phantom was afoot to menace the child with the shudders. It was a wonder and topic of general gossip in the tightly-knit Milquetoast-Mitty family circle that the whelp was permitted outside at all, where any manner of miscreant lay in wait to spirit away the young and the artless.
The so-called adventure entailed a bus ride to his cousin Wally's home, clear on the other side of town. He might have walked, as many a scrappy boy his age was wont to do. Ride his bicycle, surely (Master Milquetoast was sans wheels). Wilder still, plop down in the rumble seat of his sporting Uncle Jeb's roadster, and scream with glee, not blood-curdling vocal rents of the local atmosphere.
Mrs. Milquetoast was partly to blame for Casper's [sic] malady of perpetual frissons. She coddled him along with her eggs on a routine basis, which is a gustatory delight when we're salivating over a Caesar Salad, but hardly that for the proper development of the male species. I'm not talking grunting, mastodon-chewing Neanderthal here.
What can you expect with an overprotective mother and a father who never proceeded but with doubtful and timorous steps?
However horrid, debilitating and a nuisance Mrs. Mildred Milquetoast's migraine had proven to be, it was nonetheless the hour to ready the scrupulously-prepared youngster - Casper [sic] - for the bus ride across little Tarrytown on the old but reliable Peerless Stage. Gaining the oft-missing-but-now-tentative upper hand, Mother ran over the requisite list of dos and don'ts with her quaking offspring.
"Do you understand, Casper [sic], that you must never talk to strangers or accept candy from them?" queried the tearful Mrs. M.
"Yes, Mother. What's wrong with the candy?" asked a genuinely naive Cas.
"They cough on it and spread germs to unsuspecting children," the former practical nurse responded. "Mrs. Clabberstone is taking the 10:15 to do her marketing at Rao's Corner Grocery. She will accompany you to your stop at University Avenue, where Auntie Gertrude and your cousin Walter will be awaiting your arrival. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mother. What if Mrs. Clabberstone wants to give me some candy?" asked a hopeful but dubious Casper [sic].
"No candy between meals!" retorted the determined but not entirely heartless woman.
Once little Jelly-Boy was remanded to the capable and willing supervision of Warden Clabberstone (who was waiting stiff-as-starch on the corner of Wraight and Howe for the stage), Mrs. Milquetoast scurried home, looking both ways twice before crossing the near-deserted boulevard to the home-fortress. There she was sure to find a hand-wringing Mr. M., who would be waiting in anxious suspense for the morbid details of all the frights encountered by his somewhat more stalwart mate in the fifteen minutes since their tearful goodbyes.
Kneeling on the bench seat and pale face plastered against his window, the wide-eyed and incredulous little boy glared in utter petrification at the bizarre parade of homes, trees, automobiles (and a hundred other items of mundane interest) that zoomed like magic past the streamlined projectile carrying him and 23 other passengers to World's End. Little Ward Caspar - no longer sic and, strangely enough, not ill from the bouncy ride - found himself duly deposited by the responsible Clara Clabberstone into the waiting hands of Aunt Gertrude.
Walter was there at his mother's side but was staring off into the sky. This is not to say, however, that the streamlined projectile that rocketed his cosmonaut cousin, Cadet Caspar, to Moon Base One, went unnoticed.
Hardly.
Thank you CoCo! I've been waiting impatiently.
Hi Beks!
Your "silly grin" will soon emerge, but can e'en the Hounds o' Hell efface it?!?!?!?
Yours truly,
CoCo