Then he left the room whistling "Dixie" and I didn't see him the rest of the evening.
At that point, I saw that there was no reasoning with the man, so under the cover of night while he slept, I commandeered all three volumes of Mr. Foote's masterpiece and buried them under our oak tree in the backyard. Then I left the following note on his nightstand:
January 25th is Kansas Day. You will write series of posts commemorating our statehood. When this is done, I will return your books.
Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind,
muddy
We'll see how this act of agression plays out here at The Greasy Skillet.
preserve the union,
muddy
1 comment:
In a closet somewhere I have my "Kansas" book that Mrs. Mary Schleicher had us put together in the Second Grade. Buffalo, sunflowers, Jayhawks, Amelia Earhart and Ad Astra per Aspera. All colored in Crayola's finest and descriptions written on Big Chief Tablet paper. That's what Kansas Day always reminds me of.
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