I have spent the entire day recovering on my bed!
Spud appears to have passed out.
Yesterday he began to play his Pan pipes and the jaunty fluting tunes were irresistible. I sprang to my feet and soon I was executing the fancy footwork I learned at the Miss Faucet’s School of tap and Dance. I was so fast I was a blur which the warders said was an improvement. Their rudeness is maddening yet even they could not resist and soon their ears were flapping a rhythm and their feet were tapping in time.
“You are a wonderful piping potato Spud,” they cried.
Up and down the scales went Spud, faster and faster flew my feet until at last I sank exhausted to my knees.
The music stopped.
“Are you happy now Egg O?” said Spud eagerly.
I looked at him. He lay on his back, the pipes cast aside, a little smile on his lips. He exuded silliness. I knew he would never have a sensible thought in his head.
Indeed I am Spud” I replied. “Indeed I am.”
And so with one last squeaky puff on his pipes he collapsed joyfully on his bed.