I was thinking America (the United States) needs to grow up. You need to either grow up or get yourself a woobie; a big woobie. My revere was interrupted by one of the counter girls. They were in a disputation as to whether my name was Wayne or Dwayne (I’m a regular). The girl asked if it was Wayne or Dwayne and I said:
“Definitely Wayne. Dwayne was that other kid back in kindergarten – the one with the constantly runny nose, you know, candles,
“The Loyal Order of the Silver Sleeve?”
“When one of the other kids called me Dwayne I bristled and took exception.”
Then I recalled my Teddy Bear. I wondered what ever happened to my Teddy Bear. It had a music box built into the back with a wind-up key. It played Brahm’s Lullaby. It was probably viciously murdered, torn to pieces in a fit of rage, the broken body hidden in the trash by one of my sisters. One day it was there, and the next day it was gone. I wondered what ever happened to my Teddy Bear.