It Could Happen Anywhere

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In the closet where pillows were stored for the pandemic, stuffing lay scattered. Fabric soiled. So many had become mouse nests.

When first furloughed, the smart-looking cushions had done humorous impressions of the Nobel prize winners whose rears they recalled. Now that their padding had thinned, their numbers were also thinning. The best rotated among the dining room chairs. Not every guest could have a back support.

“Listen here,” the plumpest whispered. “A mouse ran under the Queen’s chair .”

The others cried in unison, “Where will it end?”

The door opened. Pussy Cat walked in. “I hear you’ve got problems.”

Let Him Catch a Wink

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Willie seemed embarrassed. “Mrs. Winkie’s suggestion. Some kaffeeklatsch nonsense.”

Several curious dads shifted on their barstools. “The neon yellow nightgown? Their idea?”

“Yeah. Said the kids would pay attention. I came up with the lantern and stopping in here afterwards.”

“So you don’t go all through the town.” The guy speaking had bags under his eyes.

“ Nah, that’s an exaggeration. Just my street.” Willie took a sip from his beer.

“Do the kids get into bed by eight?” Same guy. Seemed hopeful.

“Yeah, absolutely. Everything’s quiet when I get home.” Willie warmed to his subject. “And it’s cured my insomnia.”