George didn't always look like this. That sultry gaze, one arm cocked contemplatively behind his head while he lies purposeless and prone, still in bed at 11:30 a.m. on a Monday? No, no. George used to be a man of action, an early riser, off to take on the world right after taking the kids on their merry morning walk/potty break. (He and his wife Lucinda were raising two adorable teacup piglets, Tiffany and Tremé, who were basically their children. Seriously, they could do everything real human kids do, save for speaking or skateboarding or eating refined sugar or going on the furniture (that velvet headboard wasn't cheap) or attending school — despite Lucinda's repeated efforts to convince the local Montessori admissions council of Tiffany and Tremé's many academic and artistic talents.) But none of that matters now. Lucinda left George three weeks ago, whisking the kids in their blankets right along with her like a thief in the dead of night. What went wrong? Where did they go? Will George ever see his precious piglets again? Only time will tell. *heavy sigh*
Yours in thirst,
Lincoln (@marytodd_)
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